


The Case of the Stolen Bed Clothes

by Cirilla Godefroy (Cumbersnatched)



Series: Witcher's Don't Have Lovers [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: #sorryeskel, Anal Sex, Angst, Claiming Bites, Dettlaff - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eskel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Masochism, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Slow Burn, Smut, Tendrils, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Whump, Whumptober 2019, Witcher Contracts, geralt - Freeform, regis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 21:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumbersnatched/pseuds/Cirilla%20Godefroy
Summary: Eskel picks up one last contract involving missing bed clothes before he heads to Kaer Morhen for the winter. He hoped it would be simple, but he wasso wrong.





	The Case of the Stolen Bed Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Quarra, your writing is an inspire inspiration! I hope to one day write as well as you!
> 
> Many many MANY thanks to TrueTattoo for putting up with my constant bugging and offering advice!!! 
> 
> You both rock :D
> 
> Warnings:  
Mist form manipulation/tendrils???  
Dub-Con ish in spots?  
DENIAL  
Powerplay  
Bloodplay  
Anal Sex  
Angst/Whump/Comfort  
Fluff-ish  
PWP but not quite?  
Slow burn

“Wait. You want to pay for my services, _how_?” Eskel asked, he was so dumbfounded by the young lady’s offer he had to double check—make sure he actually heard her straight.

“I do not have much gold, witcher. If you return my families heritage quilt to me, I will lay with you for a night,” she purred, voice sultry yet overconfident, raising red flags. Eskel buried his excitement and schooled his expression, subtly willing his mutations into play as the young lady smiled coyly up at him. The gal wanted to _bed him_ as payment…Tempting, but nothing new to him. She was a pretty average in all respects. Long brown hair, hazel eyes, and her body curved in all the right ways. The woven green dress that bore her shoulders dipped just low enough to reveal the soft swell of her bosom, hinting at their fullness, and ended in loose, ruffled sleeves. A tinge of pink dusted her cheeks as she unashamedly propositioned herself to him.

Slowing his heart rate, he carefully leveled his voice so as not to give anything way or mislead her. “If you could scrounge up the gold, that’d be preferable. But I’ll consider…the…other option, my lady,” he said, kind as possible though gravely as ever. He offered her a small, barely there smile which did nothing to soften the scars that disfigured the right side of his face and cut through his lips. She was a temptation, for sure, and a pretty thing at that. But he knew better than to fully settle on that offer. Deals such as these rarely played out well for him, if ever. The contract holder tended to bail after the contract was fulfilled, leaving him hanging high and dry, or other unpleasantness might surprise him—like a husband, or protective brother.

The young lady feigned mild disappointment and worried her lip. “I will be waiting, witcher.”

Uh huh…Right…

Eskel left the girl with a hopeful smile still on his face. It kinda felt nice to be wanted, even as payment for a contract. Most time if he wanted some sort of companionship, a visit to the local flop house was in order. The gals and guys there had no issues bedding a witcher—most thought it a challenge even, and would brag about it after, as if they had earned a badge of honor. It was still fake though. Physically satisfying as it could be, he still left them feeling empty. Unwanted and alone. A warm body in payment for a contract completed would feel no different.

The soft smile he’d been wearing faded into a grim line as he settled his shoulders. Such was the life chosen for him, better to make the best of it. He wasn’t about to get his hopes up though. Whatever was, would be, and he’d handle it with grace and neutrality when the time came.

Focusing on the here and now, his feet carried him down a cobble stone path towards the main thoroughfare. He was in the medium sized city of Dorian, North of Temeria. It was a fairly major cross roads for trading and travelers in general, so it was a good spot to find decent contracts. The one he held in his hand though…was definitely unusual.

A fiend of sorts had been stealing bed clothes from seemingly random people in the city and surrounding villages at various times of the day. Not only bed clothes, but pillows, bales of hay and miscellaneous tools. The contract holder that had just propositioned him had lost her family’s heritage quilt that had been passed down for six generations thus far. She _really_ wanted it back.

According to her, several other homes nearby had been struck, yet no clues had been left. At least as far as a human’s eye could see. However, he was a witcher. He’d been on the path nigh on a century. So there would be clues for him to find, he was sure of it.

The first home he visited was owned by a merchant who was busy at his shop. However the wife was home, and she allowed him access to sniff and poke around. Using his keen senses, he looked for telltale signs: a piece of clothing, hair, fingerprints or a claw. The subtle shift of a rarely moved piece of furniture…He roamed around, scenting, fingers lightly playing at the air almost as if he could see the scent trails. He asked her all the right questions too but was rewarded with naught. He left that home then, and moved to the next, and then the next, employing the same techniques everywhere—all fruitless and he was becoming increasingly frustrated as the morning ticked on. However, the last one he checked mentioned yet another house struck just the night prior. Maybe he could find something there?

When he went to the house and spoke with the family they mentioned that their little girl had actually _seen_ the monster.

“He came in the night while we slept, took the bed clothes right off her!” The mother was anxious, and clutched her daughter closely to her side. The Father stood nearby, looking both cross and worried.

“He scared my daughter so badly she fell out of bed and hit her head!” The man gently ran is fingers through his daughter’s hair, whose forehead was bandaged tightly. Eskel could scent the tang of old blood beneath it.

Eskel squatted in front of the child, who looked no more than five or six. She had long blond hair and blue eyes, and the small dress she wore was white with yellow flowers. “What did you see girl?” His gravelly voice made the child flinch, so he smiled—which probably didn’t help matters.

The little girl flicked her eyes up to her parents and she grasped her Mother’s skirt tightly, then back to his hideous scars. “It was dark…” She huddled closer to her Mother obviously afraid, though from him or the memory, he wasn’t sure. He felt for her though. A little girl shouldn’t be afraid of monsters in the dark.

“Tell me sweet girl, then I’ll be on my way to get rid of the monster that bothers you so.”

The little girl worried her lip and nodded. “He had long black hair and icy blue eyes, and was—“ The little girl whined and looked to her mother for support.

“He was in his birthday, witcher,” it was the Father who spoke, his voice seething as he clenched his fists. Eskel could smell the pitch in adrenaline and the rage literally emanating off the man.

The little girl jerked her head in agreement, jostling her mess of her all over the place. “I was so scared I don’t remember much else—just pain. I fell…” Her eyes watered then, threatening tears. “He took my dolly…”

Another pang of sympathy flared for her and he stood, looking to the parents. “Can you show me where you saw him? Please?” He might be able to find a lingering scent, or something else hopefully that would point him in the right direction.

They took him upstairs to the child’s room whose bed lay close to a window. Eskel keyed up his senses then—sight, smell and even taste. Going to the bed, he hovered over it with closed eyes and took a deep breath.

It smelt of the girl, of sweat and of old rushes that lay on the floor and beneath the bed. There was something else though, vaguely otherworldly—earthy with a hint of musk and something he couldn’t quite place.

He followed the scent with narrowed eyes to the window. “Was this open?” It was getting cold, and the air was very crisp and dry in the morning. So it was a fairly unusual time of year to leave windows open. The threat of becoming ill common—no need to increase the chance.

“No sir, but it does not lock. We’re decent folk in a decent area. There would’ve been no way to access it from below anyhow.”

Eskel eased open the window then and breathed deep. The scent continued on from there, down to the ground. “I think I have what I need. I’ll be going now.” After thanking the family, he left and went around to the other side of the building. The scent was stronger now, and he could see why.

In the weeds and brush near the corner of the building lay a hand. The skin was gray and sickly, on the verge of decay but not quite. It looked like any dismembered hand should, except for the fact that it had long black claws and was irrefutably trying to crawl away from him.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he stooped to pick it up. It was a _vampire’s_ hand, and a higher one at that. A true vampire’s hand. A male’s. A male vampire gathering bed clothes…possibly nesting? It was still fairly fresh and oozing blood from the wrist, and the scent from it was heady and strong. The coppery tang of old blood, dirt and something else emanated from it that he couldn’t quite place, but would do well enough to lead him on.

Sticking the hand in a small sack attached to his belt, he took off following the sickly trail.

It led him through alleyways and intersections, through well-traveled paths and across yards and gardens. Finally it led him to a dead end. A large wall on the south side of the city, where the scent just ended.

Main reason number one for hating to track vampires: They can change forms. They can turn into mist and turn into bats. The latter of which he could follow, _if he was lucky._ Not this time though. This time there was nothing.

The hand in his sack was twitching though, and that gave him another idea. Vampires regenerate. If the hand hadn’t decomposed or turned into dust, then maybe there was another reason it was still alive? Maybe it was trying to reach its host body?

Eskel opened the sack then and placed the hand back on the ground, hoping, and feeling incredibly _experimental._ Very little was known about true higher vampires after all.

The experiment paid off, as the clawed hand decisively chose to go south. Now, just to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, he picked it up and turned the hand north.

Immediately the hand started rotating itself around in order to head south again.

Whelp that settled it. He was going to follow a hand!

Which was waaaaaaaaay above his pay grade.

~_~_~_~

Following the path the hand led him on was way more time consuming than the reward was worth in his opinion, especially if it was leading him to a higher vampire. But his curiosity was piqued. His wolf school Brother, Geralt, and his friend Regis were searching for a higher vampire named Dettlaff. Geralt and Regis were worried about him after what happened in Beauclair, and Eskel couldn’t blame them. The vampire had gone on a rampage, instigated by the rage he felt at being manipulated by that bitch Syanna and magnified by the hurt of his heart shattering when he realized the one person he loved had betrayed him. As horrible as Dettlaff’s crimes were, he didn’t blame the vampire one bit for flying off the handle. Humans had done worse, and repetitively—and haven’t learned a single damn thing from their past either!

At that time the vampire had been dangerous and unstable. Regis explained how unhinged the vampire could be. Changing moods in a blink as a word or memory set him off. Yet it had been several months since the Beauclair incident. Dandelion got Geralt out of prison, and Regis was on the hunt for his Brother. They were thinking, maybe he’s had time to calm down since the incident, hopefully.

They told him all this when Geralt had called a brief meeting after his release, so Eskel had a vague idea of what the vampire looked like—just in case they ran into him on the path. Geralt and Regis were very explicit about what to do if they did.

‘Dettlaff is fairly pale by vampire stands, and has unruly raven hair that he prefers to slick back given the chance. His eyes are ice blue and he uses a blood red mist form. Do not approach him if you see him out in the open, and do not instigate if you come upon him accidentally. Hell don’t even let your presence be known! Just get the hell out of there and _tell us where he is!_**’ **Regis informed them, imploring them to adhere to his advice as they would have if it had come from Vesemir. ‘He is _dangerous_ and _unstable._ Do not approach!’

So with that in mind, he had a very ominous feeling that he may be heading towards his doom as the clawed hand guided him towards the northern edge of the mountains bordering the forest of Brokilion. His horse Scorpion was enjoying the easy ride, unlike Eskel. Every so often he would dismount and use the hand as a compass while his horse grazed, gathering mouthfuls of dying grass from the frozen ground that was covered in a light dusting of snow. The seasons were changing again. The trees he passed on his journey were bare, the leaves having fallen off long ago leaving a scattering of piles on the ground. Dead and brown leaves twisted around in the air as the dry cool wind occasionally picked them up.

Hopefully this would be his last contract before heading up north to Kaer Morhen for the winter. _Hopefully_ it was easy, and he wouldn’t even have to deal with a vampire. Maybe he’d get _lucky_ and find the den the vampire was building empty and he could grab the quilt and go.

‘Hopefully’ and ‘lucky’ were not on his side, yet again. Of course.

The hand led him through a river and behind a waterfall into a cave, freezing him to his bones and forcing him to leave his horse behind. He shivered as he used a cat potion and he made his way through the massive network of tunnels and caverns. It seemed to be an abandoned warren of some sort. There were what looked like old nests tucked away in corners, covered in bits of deteriorating furs and skins. Occasionally he’d come across the bones of an old kill. The cave network itself smelt dusty—old. Stale. With the exception of the scent of the vampire however. He didn’t even need the hand as a compass to find him now. He could just follow his nose.

The scent trail led him to the entrance of a cavern, where he paused to pop a couple decoctions: Ekimmara and Katakan for strength and vitality regeneration, then silently drew his silver sword. He also readied a black blood in his gloved hand—just in case.

Eskel couldn’t hear anything as he silently crept into musty, uneven cavern. It was about thirty feet across and fifty deep, with raised ledges and a small pit in the middle. Hay and bedding littered the floor and pillows of all shapes and sizes lined the walls and below the ledges. In the back there was a decently sized nest made of pelts, skins, pillows and all types of bed clothes. As he inched forward he could see that a raven haired vampire sat in the center of it, back pale and hunched over, facing away from the entrance. It was difficult to tell, but it seemed the vampire was rocking forward and back, arms hugging itself. Eskel’s keen ears occasionally picked up a low mournful trill or a whine.

The sounds left him on edge, especially when his cat’s eye potion started to wear off and his vision grew dark once again. Deftly, he pulled the vial off his belt and popped the cork with his teeth, spat it out and swallowed the rest of it in one gulp.

When his vision lightened again, the vampire was gone.

All his senses keyed up on instinct as he readied a quen and his grip tightened on his silver sword. The vampire was nowhere to be seen. Not in the nest, or near the pit, nor on one of the raised ledges as far as he could tell. The damn vamp was gone! Paranoia ate at him as he pressed back towards the wall, not liking this one fucking bit and _really_ wanting to cover his back.

Of course he should’ve checked behind him. The only warning he got was a sudden prickle at the back of his neck before he was grabbed. Strong arms tightened around him from behind, pinning his own to his sides. He cursed himself for his lapse in judgement and for not taking the now useless black blood stuck to his side.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the vampire growled as it nosed into his neck. Warm breath pooled against the soft skin there as it rutted harshly against him. He about lost it then as something undeniably hard pressed into his backside and the heady scent of musty earth, sweat and arousal overwhelmed him. Just his fucking luck he stumbled into a nesting—rutting—vampires den! After taking a split second to weigh his options, he dropped his sword, made the sign for a quen shield and blasted the vampire off his back.

When the vampire smacked into the wall behind him and slid to the ground with a satisfying thud, he took advantage of the few seconds he had, snatched up his sword, and backed away to put some much needed space between them. The vampire stood slowly then, pale and naked in his cats eye vision. He looked haggard and weak; his skin glistening with a thin coat of sweat. He was lean, yet muscular with not a blemish to be seen—and full on in a state of rut. The vampire in question slumped heavily against the wall as it stared at him, panting and with wide icy looking eyes. Icy blue eyes…a classically square jaw and face, a mess of wavy chin length raven hair…

Dettlaff?

“You,” the vampire’s deep voice sounded rough from disuse, and pained. The vampire straightened and licked its lips. “You’re like _him_.” The vampire looked anxious and forlorn. Tired.

Eskel narrowed his eyes and took a defensive stance. The cork to his black blood had been popped off. “Who?”

“You…you’re a witcher. You shouldn’t be here.” An accent began to peak through the rough baritone voice as the vampire flexed its hands nervously and turned into blood red mist. It sped over his head and Eskel ducked, twisting as he fought to keep it in sight. The mist zig zagged around the roof of the cavern, only stopping on occasion to hover for a moment before moving elsewhere. He wasn’t sure, but the vampire seemed apprehensive—confused? Indecisive? Finally, the mist settled on a high ledge, and the vamp materialized back into his human shape and crouched; hair and eyes wild as it stared down at him.

Eskel scowled up at the vampire and waited. Waited…waiting. Several minutes passed with them staring at each other until finally he said fuck it. Might as well look for the heritage quilt if the vampire was too wishy-washy to come down and fight him. Hesitantly, he took his eyes off the vampire and scanned the room, searching for a quilt, and could see several. The one he was looking for was a patchwork quilt with names of family members on it with each individual piece sewn by said family member.

Returning his gaze to the vampire, he tentatively sidestepped towards the first quilt.

In a blink he was promptly shoved face first into the rocky floor of the cavern.

“You shouldn’t be here!” the vampire hissed, almost maniacal in his repetition. He was pinned by its full weight, hands and legs both. The bottle of black blood lay smashed into the rock; the glass cutting painfully through his gloves and into his palm. He could feel the poison seeping into his system, slowly but surely—however he didn’t think it would be enough to matter at this point.

The vampire rutted against him again and keened and he shuddered involuntarily. He didn’t know much about vampires, let alone rutting ones—except that this was really starting to fuck with his head and creep him out!

“Then let me go!” Eskel growled out as he struggled against the weight and vampires hold until his muscles burned painfully. He couldn’t even unfurl his fingers to form an aard or quen. The vampire had his hands pinned!

“Can’t…you’ll lead them to me.” Warmth ghosted his ear from the vampire’s broken voice. The light touch made him shiver despite himself.

“Lead who?” Eskel grimaced as the weight of the vampire slowly began to settle in on him, pinning him further.

“The witcher…”

Witcher?! He could feel the vampire shuddering now, and its hips were starting to undulate against him with a regularity that made him more anxious than the Trials had. Eskel wished he could fade into the ground but his mind was racing. “Witcher who?!” His voice came out breathy as the weight of the vampire became too much. Breathing became difficult—almost painful.

“The one that should have killed me,” fangs grazed at the back of his neck then, and Eskel knew. _It had to be him._ It better be! Or he was about to become dinner!

“D—Dettlaff? I’m…I’m Geralt’s friend—don’t drain me.” Eskel sounded pained and desperate and he hated it, but at that moment he _really didn’t give two shits._ He just wanted the vampire off him! He couldn’t breathe!

The vampire froze. The undulating stopped and the teeth pulled back, but the weight remained the same. He could feel the panic radiating off the vampire as it drew ragged breaths.

“How—how do you know me?” The vampire’s voice had taken on a touch of high pitched mania, and he could feel its body trembling against him.

“Geralt—Regis. Meeting of witchers…Told us ‘bout you. Let me go! I won’t…hurt you—can’t…breathe please!” He was pleading now as spots dotted his vision. The cat’s eye had worn off again too.

The vampire—Dettlaff, let out a frustrated wail and suddenly the weight pinning him was gone. Rolling onto his side he greedily sucked some air into his burning lungs. Musty and stale though it was, it was still breathable. Yet heady also with the scent of the vampire, it was blissful all the same. Air was air, and as he lay in the darkness with his head spinning, he tried to breathe as much of it in as possible.

After several moments the burning in his lungs faded and he calmed his breathing so that he could listen with his keen hearing. The small cavern was silent. There was no telling where the vampire had gone to, or if he was still there at all. Eskel sat up, hesitantly laying his sword in his lap as he checked out his stash of vials on his belt. All were broken, but for one swallow. His black bloods, his cat eyes—all destroyed. How the hell he was going to get out of the cave without seeing…Maybe if he was lucky he could find something to burn—one of the pillows if he got desperate enough.

Growling, he made to push himself off the ground and flinched as pain shot through his hand. The glass from the vial of black blood cut in even deeper as he’d flexed his hand. He couldn’t see how bad it was, even after keying up his mutations and adjusting his eyes to pull up the faintest bits of light. The cavern was pitch black, so it didn’t work even the slightest.

Fuck if that’s one thing he hated, of _all_ things in the world. It was pitch black darkness. He _always_ had his senses to help him, superhuman as they were, or his cat potion. But now he had nearly nothing aside from a flicker of igni, and even that was temporary.

Feeling helpless and vulnerable did not fucking sit well with him. Especially when he was near a horny unstable vampire.

“Are you there, Dettlaff?” His gravelly voice echoed in the small cavern and he silently patted himself on the back for how level it sounded.

There was silence.

“You broke all my potions asshole. I can’t see. Any way to light this place of yours up?”

Again, nothing.

“Great…I’ll be sure to tell Geralt and Regis what a nice vampire you are. Shining fucking example, truly.”

Eskel swallowed the anxiety he was beginning to feel and schooled himself. He’d been in worse situations. At least he could thank the Gods that the vampire had enough decency left in him to back the fuck off when Eskel called him out on who he was.

Settling in for a truly fantastic experience, he used his teeth to pull the glove off his good hand. Resting the back of his injured hand on a leg, he set to work carefully feeling along and picking out pieces of glass. Most pieces were small, and hadn’t even pierced the hide of his glove, but the others…There were a few big pieces that cut him deep. The coppery scent of his blood was overpowering as it pooled in his palm. Thankfully his pain tolerance was pretty high, so he was able to finish the task rather quickly, though it was not pleasant in the least.

After removing all the pieces, he gently pulled off the damaged glove and set it to the side. Then he hunted around in his jerkin pockets for a bandage. Normally he’d disinfect it, but his alcohol was back with Scorpion, so he’d have to make due until later. While he was searching he felt a presence settle next to him and he tensed.

“Vampire.” He growled out. He couldn’t see him, but he could feel him _very_ close. Too close. The scent of him—everything about him—was overbearing!

When the vampire grabbed his hand he practically jumped out of his skin and jerked it back.

“You are hurt.” The voice sounded less broken now, more concerned and even a little bit needy.

“I can heal you.”

“Bullshit Dettlaff, you just want my blood,” he hissed, calling the vampire out once more. Creepy asshole didn’t want to heal him. He just wanted a snack! Should just give it to him. A snack mildly infected with black blood? Yeah that’d do in a pinch.

“Yes.” The vampire reached for his hand again, and again Eskel jerked it back as he hastily fumbled around searching for bandages. Honest or not that vampire was _not_ getting at his blood—nope!

“Is there not anything that’ll light this place up?!” Deflect! Deflect, deflect! His new mantra! Not that it would work…the vampire’s nose was probably better than his!

“No. I have no need for light.” The vampire grabbed his wrist one more time, holding it tight enough that Eskel nearly winced. By now though, he’d found the bandages and hastily unraveled them.

“Humans are fragile,” the vampire murmured, stating the obvious as he tried to raise Eskel’s hand to his lips.

Eskel scowled. “I wouldn’t be fucking hurt if you hadn’t decided to pin me, asshole. Now fuck off!” He made a rude gesture at the vampire with his injured hand and a quen sign with the other. The golden shield flared to life, smacking the vampire in the face and throwing him backwards. No satisfying crunch or thud this time though—the vampire was ready, having turned to mist at the last second. Kind of disappointing! But at least the presence and scent of Dettlaff vanished with him. Hopefully he’d be left alone for a while…

Finally able to focus, he used his teeth to tear off a piece of bandage which he folded into a small pad. While he pressed this into his palm to stop the bleeding, he made a promise to the vampire. “Geralt and Regis had all kinds of nice things to say about you. Bet they’ll be surprised when I tell them otherwise.”

While he waited in silence and darkness, he pondered with wry amusement that he might have a few more scars to add to is massive collection. Definitely not brag worthy though: pinned by rutting vampire and cut by own vial of black blood. True story! He prayed to the Gods Dandelion never found out about it…

Sighing inwardly, he resigned himself to hunting around in the dark and focused on bandaging his hand. Something smashed to the ground in front of him though, and he froze. Then he heard it again. A clatter. Then again. A pile of something was being formed in the middle pit of the cavern. After a few more minutes of the noise, the presence was back at his side.

“Make fire, witcher.”

Ahh so the vampire had been gathering combustibles. That was…awfully considerate? Maybe? Ish?

Using his uninjured hand, he held it out in front of him and made the sign for Igni. The power released and flared out before them, lighting up the small cavern and creating a small bonfire.

Eskel blinked and refocused his eyes which were momentarily useless against the sudden blinding light. While they adjusted, he took a moment to revel in the heat from the fire which seeped pleasantly into his cool, damp clothes and skin. It was comforting in a primal way. It made the small amount of anxiety he’d been feeling fade. When his eyes finally adjusted and he looked around, he realized Dettlaff was no longer near him.

The vampire had moved off towards his nest. Eskel watched him with trepidation and something akin to wonder. Here was a vampire who basically had gone through hell and back, committed atrocious war crimes and yet still found enough compassion within himself to help a human—witcher. Or maybe it was because he felt indebted to Geralt? Or because the asshole screwed up his hand?

“You should leave.” The vampire said, voice sullen.

“No. I have a contract to fulfill.” Eskel said stubbornly as he returned his attention to his hand and removed the small square pad of cotton. He held his hand out to the fire so he could see what kind of damage he’d done.

Several jagged gouges decorated his palm and fingers. Most, realistically, would need stitching—if he were human. But he wasn’t, not entirely, and he had a swallow potion. He pulled the one good vial off his belt and pulled off the cork with his teeth.

“Contract? Come to kill the monster, is that it Witcher?” Dettlaff sneered now, accented voice full of contempt—or was it bitterness?

Eskel spat out the cork and poured a bit of the potion into his cupped palm, then downed the rest so it wouldn’t go to waste.

“Killing was not part of my contract, and you’re not a monster—at least not the way I see it.” Vampire Dettlaff may be, but he was no _monster_. Despite the crimes he committed in his rage for revenge, there was compassion there. Regret…at least it seemed so…

His thoughts trailed off as the gashes began to tingle and burn, then fade into a dull throb as his injury slowly began to heal. He replaced the bloody square pad which soaked up the swallow, then wrapped it tightly to his palm with the remaining bandages. It was awkward, having to tie it with his teeth, but he managed. Afterwards, he went ahead and sheathed his silver. He was pretty sure at this point he wouldn’t need it.

“You don’t understand—” The vampire argued, sounding pained.

“But I do! Regis and Geralt told me everything, Dettlaff!” Eskel growled as he pulled himself off the ground and turned to face the vampire. Dettlaff was slumped against the back wall hugging himself miserably. The vampire was panting and trembling, nearly doubled over. Eskel’s empathy flared for the guy.

“You don’t—“Dettlaff’s eyes were wide and glassy as he pleaded with Eskel to understand. “I have killed…so many people. So many innocents. Children…”

“Lesser vampires did. Not you.” Eskel stubbornly corrected the vampire as he took a step forward. His voice was harsh, but full of conviction. He’d heard from Geralt and Regis themselves! While it may be true Dettlaff had a certain influence on them, he couldn’t have maintained absolute control over them _all_.

“But they were my vampires! _MINE._ My warren, all!” The vampire let out an anguished cry as he slid down the wall, despondent and with tears leaking from his eyes. “I told them not to…not to kill innocents…Women…the children…Oh GODS all the children!...”

Eskel’s heart nearly broke as the vampires voice cracked and started sobbing. Dettlaff was so broken—so unhinged and full of anguish and regret. One moment he was fine and a slight turn of conversation later he was a mess. Regis had warned him of this. That the vampire was _different._ Had always been. That there was some sort of mental affliction raging within the vampire that caused frequent mood swings, which made it difficult for him to understand emotion and adapt to human’s social expectations. So it was no wonder the vampire flew off the handle when Syanna had destroyed his trust and broke his heart. That didn’t necessarily make it _okay_, but it made it easier for Eskel to understand him. To empathize.

Dettlaff had started howling and keening to himself. “MY warren! I told them not to, forbid it! But they…they went after…they destroyed it…its gone…Gods it’s gone—the Orph…anage!“ Eskel flinched as vampire let out a strangled high pitched trill and curled in on himself. Sobbing and wailing, the vampire was lost utterly to his misery—he rocked back and forth, forming a vulnerable ball of pure anguish that triggered Eskel into action, breaking something inside him.

He tossed aside what little self-preservation instincts he might have had left as his mutations keyed up causing the ingrained need to _protect_ and _comfort_ to surge to life. Without even a thought Eskel climbed into the nest with the vampire and pulled him into his lap, cradling him and holding him as they both rocked back and forth. His eyes blew wide as the scent of the nest permeated his senses, and the raw emotion of the vampire overwhelmed him. Schooling himself, he closed off his sense of smell entirely for the moment, going nose-blind. Then he instinctively started rubbing soothing circles and made what he hoped were sounds that might calm and soothe, and thought back on what Regis and Geralt had told him.

In addition to murdering countless innocents, lesser vampires destroyed an orphanage. Dettlaff was indirectly the cause, there was no doubt about it. Yet it still wasn’t his fault. He didn’t _send_ his warren to destroy the orphanage and kill children. _Had forbade them to_. But it was different. It wasn’t like the witchers who sent trainees to their potential deaths when they underwent the trial of the grasses. _That_ was evil. _That was heartless._ But as far as he could tell—with the exception of wanting revenge against that bitch Syanna, there wasn’t anything _malicious_ or _heartless_ about Dettlaff. Obviously he had some anger issues, probably due to his instability, but hell, everyone had anger issues. It was normal—and human.

Finally the keening reached a pitch he couldn’t ignore and Eskel pulled him closer, hugging him and nuzzling into his mess of hair.

“_Breathe_,” he instructed softly, his body still rocking as he continued with the soothing motions and sounds. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing—wished he had a way to contact Regis and Geralt, but he could always do that later…

Awkward and floundering with the overwhelming urge to _help_, he grasped at a stray thought and hoped the words made some sense. “Sometimes we make mistakes, and shit gets out of control. All you can do is forgive yourself and learn from it.” His attempt at awkward sagely advice, mostly from Vesemir.

The vampire keened and shuddered, curling into him. “Can’t forgive—so many children…gone…So many lives ruined!”

Eskel cursed himself inwardly and desperately grasped for a different angle. Regis had told Eskel about Dettlaff’s past, how he had brought Regis back from near death after Vilgefortz. Dettlaff had set up a toy shop where he’d craft or fix toys to sell or give away for free. He very much loved children, deeply, and had used that love as a coping mechanism for his mental instabilities. Despite all the pain and anguish Dettlaff caused, Regis still forgave him and wanted to find him—help him back on the path to goodness again. He explained this in short to Dettlaff.

“Regis forgives you, Dettlaff. He misses you, wants to see you get better again.” He’d hoped his words would soothe the vampire but they had the opposite effect. The sobbing intensified tenfold.

“Nooooo…go! Go—away! You should—nt be—here!” Eskel scowled and ground his teeth together as the vampire fought for words between breaths. The vampire was embarrassed, obviously. If their positions were reversed, Eskel would be dying of humiliation. He didn’t let it bother him though and continued with what he was doing—but with less words. Nothing he said seemed to help. One of his hands started sifting through Dettlaff’s mess of hair then, hoping the gentle motion would help where his words had not.

Despite wanting Eskel gone, the vampire twisted and pulled at him then, nudging into Eskel’s awkward embrace as he shuddered and cried. Dettlaff might have been embarrassed, yet the vampire obviously didn’t want to be alone and wanted this comfort. Eskel’s empathy flared then in understanding. Many a time he’d been alone on the path, suffering through his thoughts after a failed contract—where someone had died. Or the ones that had ungrateful contract givers, where people made it a point to make him feel like shit after or would withhold payment. Those were nights when he felt the worst—outcast, unappreciated, bitter and alone.

Yet there were times when he was surprised by a person’s kindness—a warm touch, a hot meal, a soft bed and kind words. A smile from a child he had helped, or a firm hug from a Father whose daughter he’d just saved. A voice without judgement. Those moments…Those moments made it worth it. Eskel drew the vampire closer as he considered their similarities and their differences. Maybe one day Dettlaff could experience those _good_ moments and use them to heal, to find strength and security—and maybe one day move on enough to forgive himself.

By now, Dettlaff had shifted and had glued himself to Eskel. The vampire had his face buried in the soft leather armor of his chest, and his thick black hair obscured his face from view. He was still shuddering and crying tenderly against him, though he’d calmed down from the body wracking sobs he’d been experiencing minutes before.

“You’re going to be okay. You’ll get through this,” Eskel murmured in what he hoped was a soothing voice, though he was sure it was marred by how thick and gravely his voice had become, more so than usual.

That elicited another heavy shudder and sob from the vampire. He decided then he should just stop talking, and settled for firmly holding the vampire against his chest while he stared into the fire outside the nest. His hand continued sifting through the vampire’s messy hair as he waited for him to calm down.

He supposed this contract could have been worse. It might have been a higher vampire he didn’t know of. Then there might have actually been a fight—one he was sure to lose even. No…despite the awkwardness, and their severely awkward and tense introduction, this was _much_ more preferable. He just had to be patient with Dettlaff. Let the misery the vampire felt run its course.

~_~_~_~

After a considerable amount of time had passed, and the fire had burned down to something more normal, the vampire lay quietly against him. Every so often Dettlaff would tremble, but otherwise he was calm and silent. Eskel was almost afraid to move—let alone say anything. Everything he’s managed to say so far has only made things worse.

Honestly, it was about time for him to go. He really hated to leave the vampire in such emotional turmoil, but it was something he couldn’t help with in the long term. This was something the vampire had to figure out by himself and hopefully—eventually, learn to forgive himself for.

Tentatively, Eskel loosened his hold on the vampire and made to shift him so he could stand, but Dettlaff tightened his grip and let out a low keen in protest.

“Dettlaff…I need to go.” He needed that quilt and needed to get back to his horse. Gods knew how much time has passed already with him that cave.

“Stay.”

Eskel’s eyebrows shot up. The command was simple, but there was emotion behind it—desperation and need. Loneliness. It triggered a pang of empathy in him, but he really needed to move—to get going.

“Dettlaff…”

The vampire let out a low growl and loosened his hold on his jerkin to run a thumb along Eskel’s jawline. “Stay,” Dettlaff repeated, tenderly pressing their foreheads together. The vampire’s voice was no longer broken but now held a certain power that Eskel couldn’t place.

His eyes fluttered shut as a sudden complacent calmness overwhelmed him. A feeling of total contentment. There was a low buzz in the back of his mind then which made his whole body tingle pleasantly and his skin hum with anticipation.

He nodded to Dettlaff despite himself. He would stay…didn’t need to get up even. He was perfectly fine just sitting there, with the vampire in his lap, nosing against his jawline, down past his collar to his neck. Lips ghosted across his pulse point there making him shiver.

Eskel blinked then and opened his eyes as he came back to himself—remembering that pulse points and vampires _do not mix _as far as he was concerned! The contentment and happiness he felt faded and was quickly replaced by confusion and a hint of anxiety. But now Dettlaff had settled against him and had his forehead pressed into the soft fabric of his collar.

“What did you do…?” Eskel’s mind felt a bit foggy and he ran his good hand over his eyes as he tried to clear it. They felt strained, tired.

“Helped you understand. You said you’d stay with me for a while?” The voice that had been broken and full of anguish was now warm and sounded a bit vulnerable, triggering that ingrained urge to comfort and protect once more.

“You’re lonely.” Eskel stated softly, deciding to grab the garkain by the horns. He did…understand. Completely.

Dettlaff said nothing, but the clawed hand that had been resting against his chest gripped at his jerkin, making the answer very clear. The vampire’s whole body felt tense against him.

Eskel took a deep breath, feeling nervous and awkward—then immediately regretted it. His eyes blew wide as the scent’s he’d forced himself to become nose blind to assaulted him once again. Stale earth, Dettlaff’s musk, his _arousal_ and the scent of old cum in the nest. The aroma was heady—inundating. It took everything he had to ignore it all again and force his thoughts elsewhere. He thought about mentioning Regis, and how much Dettlaff was missed, but decided that might bring out too many painful memories. So instead he related his own experiences with loneliness to the vampire curled up against him.

He fumbled a bit, as he thought of where to start his crappy monologue, knowing he’d probably end up upsetting Dettlaff more. But he surged on anyway, and when he spoke his voice came out unsteady—almost pained as he revealed some of his own insecurities.

“A lot of the time when on the path I’d get lonely. I travel alone, almost always, and the handful of interactions I have with people usually don’t go well. They call me freak, monster and compare me to filth. They almost always try to rip me off, or get out of paying me for my services. Especially when a contract didn’t go the way they wanted, or the way I had planned. Sometimes shit happens, people die, things break. And sometimes…monsters—aren’t monsters, and I let them get away.”

He felt Dettlaff shift and relax against him then as some of the tension left his body. His heart felt lighter at that, glad that he’d finally said something to the vampire that truly made a difference.

“I stay away from taverns most times, because the assholes that frequent them almost always try to start shit. The last thing I wanna do is cause trouble for an inn keep just trying to feed his family…Vesemir, one of our teachers. He did his best to raise us to be good people, not the monsters they make us out to be. Always told us to treat others how we wanted to be treated, even if they treated us like garbage. Rise above them, don’t become them. He was a good ol’man. I miss Ves…”

Eskel let out a harsh breath. His eyes burned as he remembered the old witcher in both his glory days and his golden. It was too bad he had been taken from them so soon.

“Despite all the shit I put up with though…there were times it was worth it. I’d earn myself a kind word, or a hot meal to go with my pay, or a soft bed to sleep in for the night. On the rare occasion, a warm body to go with it. If I helped an armor smith, sometimes they’d repair my armor for free. If I helped a farmer, they might give me a whole bird. The kindness is often few and far between but it makes it even sweeter when it happens. You gotta look forward to it, but don’t let the hand you’re played get you down. Make the best of it, be the better person…”

He knew he was rambling now, wasn’t even sure if Dettlaff was following—wasn’t sure if he cared. The situation was awkward, so it was just nice to talk, talk to fill the silence…nice to have someone to listen who wouldn’t judge him and accepted him for who he was.

Eskel looked down at Dettlaff, who had been staring up at him. The vampire’s eyes widened and he quickly looked away, as if caught.

“What? You wanted me to stay, and now you’re the one getting all embarrassed?” The timidity he displayed was almost adorable, if not for the fact that the vampire was still undeniably _naked_ in his lap. He braced himself and waited. He knew better.

The clawed fingers that had crept up to this neck while he’d been talking curled slightly, leaving light indentations in his skin. He willed his body not to respond as Dettlaff finally fumbled some words.

“Not embarrassed, just…”

The vampire trailed off and Eskel could practically hear the gears grinding away in Dettlaff’s head as he thought and chose his words with care.

“Vampires are social creatures. We form packs, and warrens, but at times we do seek solitude. For me, the latter is almost always the case. When a vampire is lonely, we tend to seek each other out. It’s very common practice, especially during the full moon, or when males or females are in estrus or rut…” Dettlaff sounded kind of pained when he trailed off and his body subtly tensed again—though now for a whole new and obvious reason.

Eskel felt his cheeks burning furiously now that the vampire had brazenly addressed his personal issue. One which he had been doing his damnedest to ignore. He’d been doing so well too and thanked the Gods for the low light and his armor, hiding his coloring and limiting skin on skin contact. Though now he knew neither would do anything to conceal the way the oxytocin rush altered his personal scent.

The grip on his neck became tighter for just a moment before releasing entirely to trail down his neck and lay at rest atop his armored chest.

“Yes witcher…As I am sure you’re well aware…I am in a _state_.” Dettlaff hesitantly returned Eskel’s gaze then, and he could see that the icy blue eyes were almost black now. The revelation seemed to have made the vampires control slip ever so slightly.

“Eskel. My names Eskel. And for a vampire in _rut_ you seem to have had remarkable control.” Eskel licked his lips as his body keyed up automatically due to the vampire’s obvious interest in him. Up until then, he managed to ignore it—was creeped as fuck by it in the beginning. Yet now that he realized who the vampire was, and had come to understand, and could even relate to the vampire’s loneliness—he wasn’t sure if he should run screaming into the darkness of the caves or help the poor guy out.

Eskel willed his mutations into play for now, until he could come to a decision, and rerouted the flow of blood away from his groin.

It really fucking hurt when he did that, damn it.

The vampire had scented the change in him already though, and had closed his eyes. The clinking of the gears in his brain was obvious once again.

“You are Geralt’s friend. I am trying to _behave_. Mostly. This contact we’re sharing…it helps temper the feeling, but does not quench it. It will not be quenched until the rut passes in a few days’ time. You have remarkably bad timing, witcher Eskel. Or good timing, depending on how you look at it.”

Damn his honesty was charming as all hell but…was this really the time or place for it? For _this_? Dettlaff was an _unstable_ higher vampire—the man could break him, rend him apart so easily…

He swallowed harshly at the thought, and shivered despite himself.

Eskel froze as he felt the vampire tense fully against him in response. He watched as the vampires expression turned from semi-relaxed to pained when he closed his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. The clawed hand against his armor gripped hard for a minute until the moment passed. Eskel frowned, watching until the vampire relaxed again and slowly let out a full body shudder.

“Are you okay? Does…is it hurting you?”

After a few moments, Dettlaff sagged against him again and opened his eyes. “No…it doesn’t _hurt._ But there are urges that are very difficult to quell. For example just now, I _really really wanted_ to mark you, among other things.”

Anxiety coiled in his chest as he went back to being fully creeped out. “Okay well, I need to get back.” Eskel broke eye contact and firmly dislodged the vampire from his body. This was getting too close to bestiality for him. Men, he could handle, male vampires—okay maybe, he’d probably go there too. Hell, he’s been with bruxa before. But when animalistic urges started coming into play—that was a little bit much for him.

Eskel sat up and totally ignored the look of hurt Dettlaff shot him. He’d get over it—he’d obviously been through worse than this—

The air whooshed out of him in one breath as he was pushed back into the pillows and his hands were pinned in a vicelike grip above his head. Dettlaff straddled him, glaring with elongated fangs bared. The vampire’s sclera were full on black now, with ice blue centers as he fought to control his vampire transformation.

“You dare to judge me, based on…_THAT?_ Because…_of marking?! REALLY WITCHER?!_” Eskel’s eyes widened at how the vampire literally _seethed_ above him, his accent thick and rising and falling with anger.

“After all your preaching about people treating you badly and trying to look for the good moments in everything…Yet here you are judging me…_JUDGING ME…OVER_ _MARKING?!_ Do you not realize how _hypocritical_ that is?!” Dettlaff looked so hurt; his eyes pained and shining with sadness and rage.

“I…I’m sorry…” Eskel floundered, feeling shitty and very much speechless at being called out on the double standard.

“You’re a witcher. You had no choice in the matter. People _despise you_ for it.” Dettlaff growled and settled his weight as he dipped his head towards him. Eskel struggled, arms straining against Dettlaff’s hold—could feel the skin around his wrists bruising in the vampires grip. His breath hitched as lips slowly skimmed across his jawline towards his pulse point where Dettlaff purred a threat at him. “I am a _higher vampire._ I don’t need to drink, but I can.” Fangs grazed the soft skin there and he struggled as his fight or flight instincts kicked in.

“But I don’t drink—and I won’t, unless I have a willing donor.” A tongue flicked out and trailed up his neck, and his eyes fluttered as he shuddered again despite himself. The wet trail ended up cooling his burning skin as it dried.

“And when I’m in a rut, my base instincts begin to drive me.” Dettlaff ground hard into him and moaned, “I want to mark, I want to nest and hunt. I want to _fuck_. I want to _be fucked_.”

Eskel’s eyes blew wide and he stifled a growl inadvertently turning it into a whine. He couldn’t believe how attracted he felt towards the vampire right then. The power struggle and the vampire’s obvious _want_…oh it triggered a base need deep inside that frightened him, yet left him wondering what it might be like with a higher vampire…with Dettlaff…To be inside of him, or be filled by him…

“But out of respect for your dear friend Geralt, and my friend Regis. I remain in control.” Fangs grazed his jawline and lips brushed against his own—just barely. Eskel shivered and arched up into the feathery touch, but the vampire pulled away, just out of reach. The slivers of ice glimmered down at him mischievously. “So do not judge me, friend of Geralt, less I decide that control is not worth keeping.”

Gods…he wanted to tell him to fuck the control, let it go, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he lay there panting against Dettlaff’s grip, vicelike and bruising as he pulled against it. His gaze traveled and lingered down to the pale lips he was so tempted to ravage, whose fangs were peeking out ever so slightly, taunting him. He licked his lips and fumbled, trying to find words—

What the fuck was going on with him!? Was he that much of an indecisive coward?! He wanted this now…Gods he wanted it more than he was willing to admit…

Chest coiling with anxiety, he ultimately decided that the best way to further apologize was to poke the bear—or in this case—the vampire.

His own gold eyes glowed with mirth as he spoke and silently prayed to the God’s Dettlaff wouldn’t kill him.

“So do you mark your territory too, Detty?”

Dettlaff’s eyes glowed and Eskel felt a change in the air—it thickened with the scent of the vampire’s musk and nearly vibrated as Dettlaff leaned towards him, his gaze predatory. _Hunger and lust incarnate._ Eskel shuddered as Dettlaff harshly rubbed his cheek against Eskel’s scarred one, marking him, and causing the heady scent to peak.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, witcher?” Dettlaff purred into his ear and undulated against him again—this time directly into his full cock.

“Fuck…” It slipped out, a curse, quiet yet full of need that he’d not intended to voice. He cursed his body then for betraying him and hated the vampire who pinned him for making it do so. The vampire in _rut_ who trembled against him as he tried to maintain control of his base instincts, and Eskel, hating himself for wishing that the vampire wouldn’t. It was so hot, and he was so fucking done trying to figure this mess out.

Eskel undulated his hips In turn, eliciting a sharp moan of surprise from the vampire who pulled back, ghosting his pale lips across his scarred cheek. The dark eyes that gazed down at him now were questioning, full of hunger and want and pain. Eskel could tell that vampires control was slipping. He was anticipating it. Excitement and fear gnawed at his insides, tightened in his groin and made his whole damn body tense with the prospect of what was about to happen.

There was something else in Dettlaff’s expression too. An emotion he could relate to, and one he wanted to soothe. Loneliness. If he allowed himself this, it would ease the ache they both felt, if only for just a little while.

His eyes hungrily flickered between Dettlaff’s dark eyes and the oh so bitable lips close to his. “I _will_ need to leave at some point…”

Dettlaff’s pale lips parted slightly at the admission and slowly, tentatively, the brutal grip on his wrists eased before finally letting go. The vampire let out a low chortle then that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

He scowled up at the vampire anxiously. He _did_ need to leave at some point, if only to make sure his horse was okay and take that quilt back. Yet the vampire continued to look down on him slyly as Eskel gently massaged blood back into his wrists. Strong arms caged him in then, and sharp claws gently threaded through his hair and came to rest at the back of his neck, scraping dangerously at the soft skin above his spinal cord. His eye’s fluttered at the sensation and the threat that those razor sharp claws represented.

“If you can walk, dear witcher,” Dettlaff growled, grinning wolfishly at him.

Eskel shuddered as the implication went straight to his groin. Yeah the vampire could paralyze him, but he was positive that he had something much more pleasurable in mind. His eyes glowed as he imagined how the vampire would feel inside him, filling him with that sweet burn he hadn’t experienced in so long.

The thought made him ache as he reached up, tentatively rolling his palms over Dettlaffs muscular shoulders, and slowly down his sweat slicked back. The vampire was shivering now as the tips of his fingers pressed into taut muscles there, smoothing down, tightening and squeezing until his narrow hips were grasped in his hands. The amount of control Dettlaff was exuding over himself was incredible, but it was slipping, he was almost _there._

Dettlaff’s warm tongue flicked out then, dipping between his lips, seeking out just a taste and giving him just a little in turn. He licked his lips automatically and arched up wanting more, but the vampire’s hand gripped his hair maddeningly, holding him back. Eskel growled in frustration as he ground up into Dettlaff, his lips parting at the delicious friction. Gods he wanted more of that—the friction, the taste. He imagined what those lips would look like wrapped around his cock and groaned as the weight of the vampire settled more fully on him. The vampire felt like a blanket, warm, heavy and comforting. He reveled in the little trembles that shook the vampire’s body. More evidence that Dettlaff was close—so close to his breaking point.

“You want this,” Dettlaff husked, now slowly undulating his hips with painful regularity. The tension roiling off the vampire was palpable, and the pressure beneath his cod piece was agonizing.

The scent of Dettlaff’s musk and his arousal became overwhelmingly thick then, and he inhaled deeply, nose flaring as he took it in. The heady aroma made his blood sing and chest coil anxiously as he voiced the first thought that popped in his head.

“I knew bats could be blind but this is ridiculous,” Eskel husked, his gravelly voice thick and taunting.

What little control Dettlaff had been clinging onto broke as he bent to claim Eskel’s lips with a growl. He opened up, melting into him with a moan as Dettlaff forced his tongue inside. The taste of rich earth, spice, power and need surged into him. Primal energy seemed to course through the vampire as they warred; their bodies shuddering as they ground together. He pushed back wanting to nip at those pale lips and suck on them and ravage them, but the hand gripping his hair yanked his head back. A shock of pain ripped through him making him gasp which allowed Dettlaff to delve in even further.

Eskel jerked as a fang grazed and cut his tongue. The subtle pain searing straight to his cock making him grind harshly up into the vampire. It felt so good and he whined as the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth and Dettlaff groaned into him. His heart fluttered anxiously as the vampire sucked and licked him up from the inside, then grazed and pierced him for more. The body holding him trembled—or was it his? Eskel couldn’t tell and moaned as his fingers wound into that lovely mess of raven hair, pulling the vampire closer as he imagined what other uses he could put that tongue or those fangs to.

He was distracted from his fantasizing as Dettlaff’s free hand moved down his body armor. Claws nicked the thick leather and caught momentarily on latches until finally they worked their way under the hem of his pants. A clawed thumb dug almost painfully into the sensitive dip of his hips there making him gasp and arch against it. Pleasure and pain ripped through him and the anxiety peaked as he feared the blood might make the vampire go crazy. With Dettlaff being in a rut and acting so instinctually…he was skilled though, carefully teetering on the precipice of control as claws and fangs and tongue tortured him—However the slight pain he felt soon faded, and with it Dettlaff seemed to calm and reign himself in, much to Eskel’s disappointment and relief.

The passion of the kiss tapered and after a moment Dettlaff retreated. Eskel gazed up at him, his eyes lidded and glowing. With so little light in the cavern, and the fire starting to burn low, he couldn’t make out but the glow of Dettlaff’s icy eyes, and the pout of slightly swollen lips. He could only imagine how he looked himself. How his blood must have tasted, and how edible he must smell to Dettlaff. He shuddered at the thought…God’s he wanted it…more than ever now…so what was the hold up?

The clawed hand that had been holding his hair loosened and rubbed soothing circles into his scalp. Eskel’s eyes fluttered as he titled his head back into it, enjoying the gentle touch and feel of the ache being smoothed away. He didn’t get to enjoy it for too long though, as the hand moved on. Sharp nails trailed down under his ear towards his neck to the collar of his jerkin. The tip of a sharp nail skimmed along his jaw as Dettlaff followed the curve of the fabric. Eskel shivered. He had a feeling he knew what the issue was.

“You are overdressed.” Dettlaff’s voice was musing, maybe even a little put out.

“Why don’t—“ Eskel swallowed and cleared his throat. His voice had cracked, and sounded much harsher than normal. “Why don’t you do something about it then eh?”

Dettlaff smirked down at him knowingly. “You said you needed to leave at some point. Do you really want me to shred your clothes?” Warmth cupped his scarred cheek, and the pad of a thumb and tip of a claw pulled down at the scar that cut through his lip.

Eskel leaned into the caress, enjoying the warmth against the scarred and partially numb skin there. Some of his lingering anxiety dispersed at the simple touch. It was _accepting._ Non-judgmental. It made him feel wanted despite how ugly his face was. Or maybe it was because the vampire was just horny as fuck and didn’t give two shits. Best not to overthink it.

“Mmhm…I like my clothes. Up with you then, bat.”

The vampire’s gaze turned wolfish as he grinned. Eskel smirked back up at him and arched his neck to close the distance between them once again—

But the vampire was gone, puffed up in a cloud of red smoke.

He groaned and sagged back with a curse. “Fucking vampires,” he grumbled, nearly pouting. He lay there for but a moment as he willed his body to calm down. The scent of the nest surrounded him, simultaneously calming and exciting him as he’d finally come to his decision. He shivered at the memory of those deadly claws on the back of his neck, and the way his fangs pierced his tongue….

Fuck he wanted that feeling _everywhere. _

Growling, he sat up and started pulling off his effects. First his swords, which he set at the edge of the nest, followed by his utility belt. Then he hurriedly started working on the latches and fastenings to his jerkin. As he pulled it off and flung it to the side, he saw the red mist appear and drop more logs into the fire.

Eskel’s eyes glowed as he made quick work of his vest and thought about all the faces he’d get to see the vampire make in the light of that fire—of how vulnerable and wanting he’d be. How _needy, _more than he already was. His cheeks flared crimson then, realizing the vampire would be able to see the same from him, had been able to—even without the light. So Dettlaff stoked the fire out of consideration for him. The vampire _wanted_ to be seen.

Or maybe he was just reading too deeply into shit again. If anything, the vampire was probably using the opportunity to reign in the little control he had of himself. Which, actually, sounded more plausible, especially when he was caught with his undershirt pulled over his head, suddenly consumed by red mist.

“Yahhh!” He flailed and cried out, blinded by the fabric of his tunic as he was suddenly overwhelmed by a tickling sensation. The red mist—Dettlaff, swirled about him feeling like a million feather light kisses caressing him. The vampires mist left trails of icy fire across every inch of exposed skin, making him mewl and whine, his body arching into it like a virgin on her bedding night. He couldn’t help it! It was so good and so horrible he couldn’t control his body—couldn’t breathe…

“Dett—p—plea—ah!” his plea turned into a hoarse moan as the tendrils of the mist snaked underneath the hem of his pants and braies. What little control he had left him then, his mind whiting out at the overwhelming feeling as he fought against his body. His skin was over sensitized, and now the icy hot sensation had maddeningly coiled around his cock and just _swirled there_. Caressing and driving him insane with a million icy hot licks and kisses.

“F—fuck…ing…Asshole!” he cried and bit his lip, drawing blood. He forced his mind to focus on that, on the pain, and breathing. Breathing was good—fuck yes his chest was so tight and constricted he couldn’t stand it. The tang of blood on his tongue, coppery and metallic served well for a grounding point. He was almost tempted to offer it to Dettlaff if only so he’d _just stop the torture_ for a moment!!

Eventually, breathing won out and he collapsed back against the pillows, gasping while his body occasionally arched and trembled. Still with that damned shirt stuck on his head while the whole of Dettlaff’s mist form condensed and coiled in his pants. As he panted, an involuntary keen escaped him at the icy hot sensation that now had him throbbing in time with his frantically beating heart. The rest of his body betrayed him as well, alternately shuddering and shivering as sweat cooled him and the fire within his groin burned hot with need.

Eskel’s hands fisted the soft furs below him, clenching and unclenching as he fought to regain control of his body. He willed his mutations into play, now that he could breathe and his mind clung to barely there coherency. Though not to will away the blood from _certain areas,_ but to just _calm his beating heart _and save the rest of his _mind._

After several moments, he felt the over sensitization plaguing his bare skin begin to subside, along with the icy hot coolness in his pants. The moment the torturous sensation faded, he pulled that damn shirt off. He was pissed. Apparently...a-fucking-parently! The asshole could control that shit—to a fucking T!

“Whyyyyyy?” he asked down at his cock—the mist, his _pants. _Whatever! Fuck his pants and that vampire in them! “Wait don’t answer that! You…are a fucking asshole!” He hissed, reaching down with shaking hands and started fumbling with the ties to his leather pants. No sooner had he pulled the first few ties loose than Dettlaff started up with the cock-abuse again.

_“Dettlaff! Stop!!” _he cried out, voice nearly broken as he attempted to arch and shimmy out of his skin tight leathers. “Do you want—me outa these or not!? I’ll put’m back on….and leave if you…don’t stop!” Breathing and talking while he was being so thoroughly tortured—was almost impossible! His mind was about to shut off again too!

A light reverberation from the vampire—a smirk? A lick? A ‘too bad’?!—he wasn’t sure _what_ the reverberation meant as he nearly lost his mind again from it. Dettlaff seemed to get the hint though and turned off the cooling warm vibrating sensation, yet still, he lingered, like a breath of warm wind.

“I…fucking hate you…asshole.” He said breathily as he stared up at the dark cavern lit by the glow of the fire. Focusing on that, the flickering glow, and the warmth, he managed to shakily pull his leathers off, quickly followed by his braies.

“You’re _brilliant._ But a fucking asshole. You. Fucking. _Suck._” Eskel glared down at the condensed red mass around his cock. It was shrouded from view, hidden behind the mist.

“_You loved it, witcher.”_

“Gods!” he grasped the furs and just _barely_ resisted thrashing against the vibration. “_Please_ don’t talk, holy shit.”

The mist swelled and condensed lightly—as if it were considering, thinking—laughing? He watched it as it rose up slightly, one thin tendril that seemed to twist and taunt him. He watched it as an ominous feeling gathered and weighed heavily in his chest.

“_Watch me as I wreck you, witcher,” _the mist practically purred before slinking down and then suddenly constricting around his painfully hard cock.

“No Dett—“The mist started reverberating then, long and deep and obviously full of amusement.

“No…funny!” he threw his head back this time, unable to control the automatic reaction. The mass coiled and vibrated around him, sending wave after wave of intense pleasure reverberating through him. Arching up into the feeling, his hands gripped the skins so tightly he felt blood beginning to seep through his bandage. He didn’t care though—had no mind left to care. It was _too good_. Way too good—fucking amazing! Gods how did he get so lucky with this contract!?

“Fuuuck _please_,” he was begging now as his leg kicked out involuntarily and his body spasmed. It was beginning to be too much. They needed to pause. Just a moment—

“Ahh!” He arched his hips off the furs entirely as the mist shifted down, under his balls to his—

“Oh gods…no—“He closed his eyes, his whole body flooding with heat as a portion of the icy hot mist moved lower, coiling around his balls. Yet its tendrils dipped lower still, tentatively teasing its way between his cheeks.

“Y—you wouldn’t! Ah!” He cried out, well past the weirdness of the situation, his mind utterly gone—blown to bits as an icy hot tendril teased at his entrance. The sensation burned and cooled there, reverberating with laughter, vibrating and lighting him up from the inside as it constricted, thickened, worked him apart and smoothed its way into him with agonizing slowness.

“D—Dettlaff no—t like this please—I…” His body tensed as the tendrils coiled around that special spot inside him, constricting and flexing in time with the ones wrapped around his cock. The mist was vibrating, reverberating, burning and cooling—driving him mad as it pulsed inside him and around him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything except for Dettlaff’s mist and what it was doing to him and making him feel. Wrapping him in feather light icy hot kisses that pulled and teased every little sob and whine out of him whilst making his body shudder and jerk.

It didn’t take long for him to white out again, crying out in relief as he came. Pleasure seared through him in agonizing spasms that ripped through his whole body. Cum spurt from his throbbing cock, yet the ache didn’t fade. It was good, so fucking good but the damn tendrils continued to work his too sensitive cock, while the ones inside milked that special bundle of nerves. He writhed and arched and made lewd noises, heedless of how depraved and wrecked he looked.

He couldn’t remember when, but at some point he collapsed against the pillows and furs, just about dying when the mist pulled away and slithered up his body. The icy hot trail it left in its wake was lazy and sensual and he groaned as his broken mind tried to shape itself back into something at least semi-coherent while he lay there trembling and gasping for breath. His whole body felt tense, bowled-over, and his cock both ached and burned while his ass felt disturbingly cool…and wonderful. So wonderful…Gods…

When the warmth of Dettlaff’s true form settled along his length, he let out an involuntary whine and slowly opened his eyes. The vampire lay against him, propped up by the pillows. Icy eyes glittering, full of mirth as an arm that rested lightly on his chest slowly sifted clawed fingers through his hair. He leaned into the gentle touch despite himself and glared up at the bastard. Because of Dettlaff and his weird mist shit, his body felt almost alien and totally out of his control; even as the occasional aftershock plagued him, making him shiver or tremble. Despite the warmth emanating from Dettlaff’s body, the icy hot feeling continued to linger all over his own. Yet he loved it. Every. Single. Second of it. The torture the vampire put him through…was glorious and wrong. He felt defiled, but in the best of ways. Dettlaff was horrible for it. So _horrible, _terrible and cruel, but also amazing and so brilliantly wicked he hated him.

He licked his dried lips and grimaced at the taste of blood as he fumbled around for some choice words.

“You…are absofuckinglutely….incorrigible.” His voice was torn from use, and the heat was there, though there was a fondness in his voice as well that hadn’t been there before. Probably due to his addled state of mind and feel of the claws on his scalp.

“You loved it, witcher,” Dettlaff reiterated down at him with a smirk as the hand moved lower to caress his scarred cheek.

Gods he loved it when he did that…hated him…but loved the comfort.

“Fucking hate you right now,”

Dettlaff dipped his head then with a grin, and he angled his own up to meet him. “Mhmm…didn’t sound like it,” the vampire teased as he sucked on his tender split lip and slowly ground into his hip.

Closing his eyes, he let out a low whine. He really did a number on his lip in an effort to ground himself, and it stung painfully as the vampire soothingly worried it. Dettlaff seemed careful though, even as he felt the vampire shudder against the taste of blood, and after a few moment’s the pain slowly ebbed away.

He wondered at that as Dettlaff deepened the kiss and he wilted into it. There was no pain now, just the glide of their lips and silky warm tongues sliding together as they enjoyed each other. Earlier the vampire had mentioned he could heal his wounds. Now, wondering at his formerly split lip, and the thrashing his tongue had taken—he realized the vampire must have been telling the truth.

Gently, he broke the languid kiss they shared and hesitantly raised his bandaged hand to feel around where the split had been.

It was gone, just as he’d thought.

Dettlaff watched him with a glint in his eye. “I wasn’t lying,” he lilted, amused as he took hold of his bandaged hand.

“Yeah…could see that. Still don’t need your healin’ for that though.”

With a wicked smirk, the vampire abruptly dropped his injured hand in favor of splaying his razor sharp claws against his stomach and slowly flexing them. His stomach quivered at the feeling—and _knowledge_ that those claws could literally gut him in half a second. “You sound so sure _witcher._ Perhaps you will need my healing for other things…”

Eskel watched, transfixed, as the clawed hand trailed fire from his stomach, slowly up to his chest. His muscles twitched as they left raised trails of red that sent jolts of pleasure through his still sensitive skin, making his breath hitch and heart flutter. It was all he could do to prevent himself from writhing away—they felt so sharp, so _good, _and were _the_ perfect distraction as Dettlaff lithely moved to straddle him.

The vampire smirked down at him as he settled and lightly ground their cocks together, lips parting just slightly enough to allow him a glimpse of those pearly sharp fangs. Eskel’s hands rose automatically, eager to grip the powerful thighs that straddled him and feel the muscles move and flow beneath them.

“I’ll give you one free ride, witcher. Just the one. After…we’ll put that famed witcher stamina to the test.”

Dettlaff bent low to nip and purr into his ear. “Let’s see how you compete with _me,_ witcher. A vampire…a _rutting_ vampire. I’m going to wreck you. I’m going to _rend you_—fuck you blind into unconsciousness and back again. And then…”

Eskel gasped and let out a full body shudder as heat seared through from his ear while the vampire ground into him. The grind was torturous, slow and in time with the threat-promises, almost painful against his still sensitive cock which throbbed and completely hardened _just from the words._

Dettlaff straightened and purposefully reached down, smoothing his fingers through the mess Eskel had a few minutes prior, and massaged it onto his cock. “And then…I’m going to lick you, _heal you_, make you _squirm _and _beg_ as we start it all over again.”

Eskel did his best to conceal the lust he felt, schooling it from his expression. However, nothing he could do would will his pupils to narrow, nor prevent the warmth from cresting his cheeks. The vampire’s dirty talk had been a surprise at first, but now he was getting used to it—almost craved it even. The only vampire he’d known up until this point was Regis—who was a picture perfect gentleman. You’d never know until he let loose a full fanged smile…But Dettlaff…Dettlaff was _dirty._

“Just the one ride, Detty?” He licked his lips and let them fall slightly open, rather than loose the wolfish grin he’d planned. If it was just the one, he was going to make it count.

“Just the _one_,” Dettlaff promised as he slowly ground down on his cock.

Eskel trembled in anticipation, his breath hitching as the vampire slowly slid forward in one sensual stroke, hovering over his cock and guiding it right between his cheeks. It was a sweet feeling, gliding right by the vampires puckered hole, so good he rolled his hips making the vampire grin down at him. Magnificent bastard knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly how he looked. Even now he was in perfect control…

For the moment anyway.

Dettlaff rose up then, sliding him past once more. The vampires rigid cock jutting out before him, slick and red and oozing massive amounts of precum. He was tempted to grab it then, stroke the rutting vampire and make him lose some of his control. But he’d wait, maintain his patience…Until the right moment…

“Hssss,” Eskel let out a low hiss as the vampire came down, angling his head towards that special ring of muscles. Once, twice, three times the vampire rose and fell, working him in, just a little at a time. Gods…he wondered when the last time Dettlaff did this, he seemed so tight—but he was distracted when he finally felt the head of his cock breech the vampire. He gasped along with Dettlaff then, and it took everything he had to resist bucking up as he reveled in the vampire’s expression.

Dettlaff’s icy blue eyes fluttered shut and his flushed lips fell open as Eskel’s cock entered him slowly, inch by agonizing inch until he was fully sheathed. The vampire settled fully onto him then; frozen and trembling.

“Fuck…” Eskel muttered a curse and trembled right along with him, his hands glued to the vampires thighs as he forced himself to control his urges. Dettlaff was tight…way too tight for it to not be his first time—but, more likely it was just his first time in a _long_ time. It dawned on him then just how much Dettlaff was trusting him. Trusting him to go easy, be careful. Sure the vampire could heal, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel pain. Chances are, he even liked pain—but there was something about being fucked raw from the get go that didn’t sit right with him _at all_, and from Dettlaff’s easing into it, he probably wouldn’t appreciate it either. Damn if he wouldn’t give the vampire at least a moment to adjust then, because he’d for sure would like the same consideration.

After a few moments he felt the vampire relax around him, who slowly inched up and ground back down. Dettlaff cracked open his icy blue eyes and blinked down at Eskel then as he slowly rose and fell, breaking himself in. He felt the searing heat clench and unclench rhythmically as the vampire worked himself open, slowly but surely. Hell he could almost _feel_ Dettlaff’s pleasure as he heard the vampire breathe, shallow and uneven…Gods it felt so _good_ to see him like this…to feel him slowly losing his composure…

“God you’re so hot…” he blurted out quietly without thinking, so overwhelmed by what he was seeing and feeling he just…let it slip.

Dettlaff tilted his head back as he rose then, showing off his peaking fangs which he licked temptingly. “I know...”

The vampire suddenly sank down in one smooth motion, eliciting a curse from him. “Fuck….” Eskel husked out as he grasped Dettlaff’s slender hips. “You’re still an asshole…” he breathed, biting his lip as he helped lift the vampire. This time when the vampire slammed down, Eskel brought him down and bucked up, finally wrestling as gasp out of him.

The claws braced against his chest nearly broke skin then, and lidded crystal eyes bore down on him, unblinking. A challenge.

_Do it again,_ they said. _I dare you._

So he dared.

Eskel didn’t get another sound out of the vampire, no matter how they moved together, no matter how careful he was, how surprising or unrelenting. Sweat soon beaded both their bodies, and raven locks clung to Dettlaff’s face every which way. Even when he drew the vampire down for a heated kiss, their hips rolling together, lips gliding, tongues warring, tasting, feeling—breaking apart only to gasp for breath and breathe each other in…

He couldn’t get a single sound. Not a one, though he earned himself plenty of scratches along the way. Yet he could tell he was having an effect by the way Dettlaff would toss back his head and close his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling—biting his lips. Even a little nibble, he considered a victory. But he wanted something _more._ He wanted him to cry out—to beg. The same way he’d begged earlier—uninhibited, wanton.

It was almost time…

They were both nearing their peaks now, he could tell by the way Dettlaff’s rhythm began to falter and his movements became frantic. He could feel the way the vampire started clenching around him—the way he bore down, tightening almost painfully. Yet still he made no sound. Not a gasp, or a moan—nothing at all, despite the color of his cheeks and the want in his eyes.

That kind of control was _beautiful_ but God’s he wanted to see it _break…_

“C’mon Detty, make pretty sounds for me while I fuck you…” he husked out breathily as he wrapped a rough hand around Dettlaff’s slick, purple cock and gave it a solid stroke.

The vampire jutted up into his touch then, breathing out harshly as their gazes locked—but still not a thing. _Not a damn thing._

_Really?!_

Letting out a growl, Eskel hooked a leg around the vampire and flipped their positions. Raven hair whirled around, sticking haphazardly around Dettlaff’s face who stared up at him with wide blue eyes.

“You gona make pretty noises for me now?” he husked, lifting up one of the vampire’s legs and hitching it over his arm to get the best angle. Without waiting for an answer, he thrust inside with one smooth stroke, hitting that special bundle of nerves inside…

…making the vampire bite his lip so hard it bled. Gods…as hot and wild as he looked…

Furious and feeling a little more than vindictive, he started slamming deep into Dettlaff, purposefully missing that special spot—wanting to make him _feel it. _Trying to get something—anything out of him.

Normally he’d have to hold back. With any other person aside from his wolf brother’s, he’d have to reserve himself—be _careful._ But not with the vampire. He grasped those hips so hard his nails left bloody crescents and his fingers bruised. He’d wring something out of him if it was the last thing he did…

“Gods…Dettlaff…” Eskel was almost there now, panting as he took in the very sight of Dettlaff, arching and grasping at the skins for stability. Dettlaff’s body language spoke more than any slight sound he could have ever made, as the vampire arched, grasping at the bed clothes and his pale skin turning a pretty pink…But it wasn’t enough…not nearly…

The tension in his core nearly peaking, Eskel threw caution to the wind, daring to do whatever he could to wrestle _something_ out of the vampire…Gods he hoped Dettlaff didn’t kill him…

Nearly on the verge of losing his rhythm, he adjusted his angle and slammed into the vampire’s sweet spot—one, two, four times he hit it—then pulled out right as the vampire started writhing and his blue eyes rolled back into his head

With a sound that wasn’t even human he jerked himself off, spilling himself all over Dettlaff as he locked onto that gaping hole he left, and the way his cum painted that pale flesh so prettily—so good and dirty Dettlaff was…

…Dettlaff…arching weakly, his own cock still purple, _hard,_ barely pulsing and slowly dribbling cum as his orgasm was utterly ruined.

_Now,_ maybe he’d make some noise…

Eskel swallowed nervously as he slowly came down, panting and shaking from his release. His second one that night. While he’d not helped Dettlaff with any….

Feral laughter reverberated through the cavern then, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

It was then he knew…he’d fucked up.

“You…_fucking asshole._ You did_ NOT_!” Dettlaff’s voice was high pitched and uneven, dare he say—crazed.

Eskel’s pupils narrowed to slits almost instantaneously as the vampire glared up at him with wild eyes, blood running cold. Dettlaff’s sclera fluctuated rapidly between black and white, and his fangs were elongated most dangerously.

He could feel the power emanating from Dettlaff, the fury. His keen sense for detail noted how Dettlaff’s claws lengthened and shortened, back and forth as the _rutting_ vampire fought to keep the control Eskel had so relentlessly fought to break.

“Fuck…” he actually shivered, somewhat afraid for the first time since being there. He was way too fucking vulnerable—Maybe that hadn’t been such a great idea after all…!

“I just wanted to tease you Dett—“

Suddenly the vampire misted up, disappearing and but a second later Eskel was shoved forward, face first into the piles of fur and pillows.

“Hey—!”

Eskel tried to flip himself, move, scramble away—but strong arms wrapped around him, molding their sweat slicked bodies together as knees settled atop the backs of his own, pinning them. He was so outclassed—overpowered—and loathe as he was to admit it, it _bothered_ him in the worst ways…

“You had your one freebie, _witcher. _Now it’s my turn…” Dettlaff said from behind him, sounding strained—_pained_ and unstable his voice was. Hands gripped his hips painfully as sharp claws dug in, drawing bloody marks, making him gasp.

Anxiety began to tighten within him then, and silently he thanked the Gods that Dettlaff didn’t turn into his vampire form, fuck…that would have broken him…

“Hey I’m sorry, I just wanted to have some fun…” Eskel did his best to sound rueful and sincere as his voice cracked. Super freaking easy considering his vulnerable position!

“No more apologies, _Eskel_, I will take my _reparations_ from you…” Dettlaff promised, though Eskel shuddered at the threat, and at what teased against him. The vampire’s slick, burning cock slid between his cheeks making him flinch way.

“_Fuck…” _The one curse slipped out, voice moist and giving away more than Dettlaff’s body language ever had than during the entire time Eskel fucked him. It was tinged with want, anticipation and fear, and revealed in his soul things he’s divulged to few others. He closed his eyes shivering then, waiting as the threat of _reparation_ filled him, both thrilling him and making his chest constrict almost painfully in a way he couldn’t entirely place. Anxiety? Yearning? He couldn’t separate the two. Gods he didn’t know anymore…

He looked back at Dettlaff now, as the hot, blunt pressure was there again and this time he forced himself to still—relax himself. The vampire watched him through cool lidded eyes, his face still flushed with frustration as the pressure against his hole became stronger, _firmer_. The vampire’s barely there control was still evident by the way his body shook, and the way his elongated fangs peaked out still, gleaming. There was a promise in them, just as the way Dettlaff pressed into him, slow yet unrelenting.

Sweat beaded his forehead as the pressure mounted, and he turned away, letting his head fall as he focused on it—forcing his muscles to relax, to allow that thick cock inside him.

Eskel moaned against his will as he felt his muscles finally give and burn. Inch by agonizing inch Dettlaff penetrated him, opening him up. Slowly he was filled with white hot heat as the vampires cock stretched him and pushed forward with control so deliberate and precise he knew the vampire probably ached as much as he did.

The cock inside him felt so huge, and he wasn’t even fully sheathed. He wasn’t sure if it hurt or not—he was torn between the two having only the help of the vampire’s precum slicking his hole. The pressure inside, white hot and searing but so good and intense it heated his skin, burning him from the inside out, yet Dettlaff was going too slow—even now he was being careful with Eskel, so controlled, and after what he just did to the vampire…

Feeling daring, needing, wanting more of that hot cock inside him he pushed back, taking Dettlaff in full with a gasp as he felt himself nearly split open. The stretch was intense, and he could scent the coppery tang of his blood, but it hurt so fucking good he didn’t care anymore. Face flushed crimson, he looked back at Dettlaff. Trembling and with unrestrained emotion in his eyes, he let it all go.

“_Please. Fuck.” _All the vulnerability and need he in his core made itself known in those two words, and finally the vampire groaned.

_“Yessss,”_ he hissed at the sound, burning it into his memory just as Dettlaff’s cock burned him from inside as it slowly pulled out. The ache deepened as the vampire left him empty and he automatically tilted his hips and pushed back, needing to be filled again.

“Yes…just like that _witcher,_” the vampire purred with a thick accent, before slamming into him. Clawed hands dragged his hips back with force as Dettlaff’s cock broke past that tight ring of muscles a second time and pierced that sweet bundle of nerves.

“FUCK!” he sobbed, torn between pleasure and searing pain as the vampire held him still, allowing his walls to stretch and adjust once more. Despite the roughness Dettlaff showed, despite the trembling of his own body, the vampire was still being considerate, almost kind, but Eskel was gasping now and pushed back, needing movement, longing to feel that burn. His body trembled then as Dettlaff slowly pulled out, dragging his cock past that bundle of nerves and tight wall of muscles making him shudder.

The vampire continued this torture, leaving him aching, burning, wanting to be filled—before suddenly thrusting in, filling him in one smooth stroke. Every time he was penetrated, Dettlaff would pierce that bundle of nerves, drive in deeper, making his body spasm, and eyes roll back in pleasure before pulling out with an agonizing slowness.

With each thrust he felt a little more raw, but a little more broken in too, and soon he was pushing back to meet each thrust, needing it deeper and angling his hips in just the right way. The tension began to build in him again, and soon his cock was dripping, throbbing with his pending release.

Razor sharp claws tightened around his hips then, and Dettlaff started thrusting in with wild abandon, making Eskel cry out and clamp down painfully. When he looked back over his shoulder then, his own face debauched and breath coming out in sharp pants, he ended up moaning at the savage look of pleasure on the vampire’s face. The way his lip pulled up in a snarl as he focused on the way he worked Eskel’s ass and how his black hair clung to his sweat soaked skin…

Fuck he was so hot…

He felt the vampire swell then, filling him even fuller, searing him from the inside yet angling so as to miss that bundle of nerves. Eskel growled and reached down then to stroke himself—aid in his own release and to milk the vampires own.

“No!” Dettlaff hissed, smacking his hand away as he pulled out with a feral snarl, leaving him gaping and empty. Eskel could feel the vampire jerking himself then, panting and shuddering against him as he came, spilling himself onto his ass and back. Eskel groaned in frustration, aching—wanting as his cock throbbed untouched, his release ebbing as the heat from Dettlaff’s release seeped into his skin.

He knew he’d fucked up, and knew this was his punishment, but that didn’t make it any easier—any less cruel as his cock throbbed painfully. Eskel panted as he stretched up, arching as he rutted his ass back against the vampire with a whine. “I know I deserved that,” he breathed, “_please…fuck…”_

“You deserve more than that, _witcher,”_ the vampire promised as he wound a clawed hand through Eskel’s hair and slowly pulled it taut.

Eskel smirked and licked his lips in anticipation as he ground into that still hard cock behind him. “You keep making all these promises…” he hissed as the sweet pain in his scalp intensified and he was forced to arch in order to keep the pressure somewhat tolerable. “…and you keep not delivering.”

“Oh…I will _deliver,_” Dettlaff soothed as he thrust in, hard and deep, eliciting a pained moan from Eskel.

He flailed, balancing on his knees with his back arched and hair wrapped painfully around the vampire’s fist. He had nowhere to go, nothing to grab on to for balance or stability as Dettlaff started pounding into him.

“Fuck _please_ _yes,_” he moaned breathily as the vampire started hitting that bundle of nerves dead on. Eskel’s red and swollen cock jutted out in front of him with each thrust, thick and dripping. He lost himself to the burn of being filled, the heavy scent of sex in the air. Dettlaff panted harshly behind him and claws dug into his hip as the vampire guided him, edging him closer. He loved the sound and feel of Dettlaff behind him, how every so often he’d hear him utter a barely there curse under his breath or a soft whine. He loved the slide of that thick cock too, thrusting in, shattering him. Only to pull all the way out leaving him gaping and empty before slamming back inside _right_ into that sweet spot which made him cry out and writhe nearly every time.

It wasn’t long before he was at his peak again, his cock head purple and pulsing and ass clenching down on the vampire behind him who trembled with barely there control.

“God’s Dettlaff—“ he whined as he closed his eyes to the pleasure that was peaking, losing himself to it—

Whimpering as the vampire pulled out just as his cock went rigid, swelling. It throbbed, red and glistening as he came ever so slightly with one—two little spurts of cum. He cried out and jerked, the coil of tension still strong inside him, pulsating relentlessly, driving him mad with need. Strong arms wrapped around him then, pulling their bodies flush and preventing him from reaching down to salvage himself.

“Why....” Eskel sobbed out as his cock twitched and pulsed, leaving him feeling achy and full of disappointment. He thrust his hips forward uselessly, wishing for friction, needing something, _anything _to rut against…

“Making good on my promises, dear witcher,” Dettlaff breathed into his ear.

Groaning, he tipped his head back, nosing into the vampire’s jaw he breathed him in—focusing on him. The scent of sweat and sex and the vampire’s heady musk was thick in the air, powerful and nearly overwhelming, and it felt so good to be held. It took his mind off his throbbing cock, and the deep ache centered within him.

“Love your…control…how you control me…” he murmured, lips parting and tongue licking out to taste the vampire’s salty sweet skin. “…and how you refuse to make pretty noises for me. All the sweeter when you do…”

“Mmm…” Dettlaff hummed as clawed hands trailed down his chest then, grazing him and leaving raised trails in their wake as they smoothed over his damp skin. Eskel sighed and arched against the touch, and ground the vampire’s _still_ hard cock between his cheeks temptingly. Their burning skin clung together and their mess mingled between their bodies making it even more sensual.

“Hmm…going to let your arms go. You are _not_ permitted to touch yourself. If you try, you will be restrained, _forcefully._”

He whined softly against the threat-promise of Dettlaff’s voice which was almost too good to resist, but he wasn’t sure he dared to any longer. He was too raw and deprived. Gods he wanted to come but he wanted so badly what the vampire offered too…

“_Fill me,” _Eskel husked, his voice needy as he reached up, twining his fingers roughly into the vampire’s hair. He licked up into the vampire then, softly sucking on that healed bloody lip and moaning as the blunt head of the vampire’s cock slowly breeched the raw ring of muslces.

He shuddered as he relaxed around the vampire, heat searing through his body as Dettlaff filled him once more, satisfying that empty ache inside. Dettlaff grasped his bruised hips, raising him, and set a languid pace this time, sensually undulating as he brought Eskel down while their lips and tongues smoothed over each other almost lazily. Their hips rolled, finding a rhythm he didn’t dare break, and he lost himself—to sensation, to everything.

Eskel closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of the vampire inside him. The searing stretch, the way he glided in and out, skimming past that sweet bundle of nerves lighting his skin on fire. He shivered at the way Dettlaff’s sharp claws trailed fire down his chest and how the gentle hands smoothed over the welts they’d made, making him arch into the pleasurable contrast. It was almost too much for him to cope with. Eskel was electrified, his skin sensitive and cock dripping and pulsing with need. He shifted then, spreading his legs and sinking down further, altering the angle of his hips, allowing Dettlaff to drive in even deeper and fill him to the hilt.

He let out a pained moan as the next thrust hit his sweet spot dead on and he nearly came then with a shudder, but the vampire froze.

“_Not yet,”_ Dettlaff warned as he broke their kiss and nosed into his neck. Eskel shuddered at the feel of fangs grazing his skin. That was almost enough to tip him over the edge too.

“_Please fuck,” _Eskel begged with a whine, his cock throbbing painfully and tension inside him agonizing now as he clamped down around the vampire. His whole body felt lit up, like he was burning from the inside. Even the warm air of the cavern felt cool on his searing skin which trembled and dripped sweat from the denial. He wanted to touch himself so bad, his hands were shaking. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back…

“Shhh…Soon…” Dettlaff promised as he reached up, gently wiping away the sweat and hair clinging to Eskel’s face. The motion was so genuine and tender, he lent into it, craving more of the touch. The vampire sucked on his neck instead, worrying the soft skin in between his teeth and fangs, then soothing it with little kitten licks of his tongue. Even _that_ felt cool against his burning skin and he shuddered, arching his neck to give the vampire greater access.

Dettlaff nosed into him then, inhaling deeply and letting out a little tremble of his own at whatever he scented. Sweat, sex, musk, _blood_. It all mingled around them like a thick miasma that screamed _them._

It was so good, so _perfect_ he almost didn’t want it to end…

“Please…” he breathed, rolling his hips back once more and shuddering as Dettlaff shifted inside him.

He felt the lips grin into his neck then. “If you insist, dear witcher,” the vampire murmured against his skin as he slowly started to roll his hips once more.

“Yes yes _please_,” his hands went back to grip Dettlaff’s hips, urging him on and grounding him—distracting him from his aching cock.

They resumed their languid pace, moving as one, with Eskel softly moaning and the vampire panting—trembling behind him. Their skin burned together now, slick with sweat and sticking together_._ The new angle Eskel presented let the vampire fill him fully, bottoming out with every slow glide, and eliciting more than just the simple breathy curses Eskel had gleamed so far.

“Yes…” Dettlaff breathed into his ear earnestly as his fangs scraped along the shell of his ear.

“Gods”….Eskel cried out, losing his rhythm as he slammed down onto the vampire’s rigid cock, nearly tipping over the edge from just the one word.

“You like that?” the vampire husked into his ear as clawed hands held him down, stilling him. Dettlaff’s warm breath pillowed there, sending a wave of tingly pleasure down his neck to his groin.

“…or is it my voice?” His accent was thick now, seductive and totally on key.

“_B-Both_ fuck _please,_” Eskel rolled his hips, urging the vampire on, trying to seek his release despite the strong hands restraining his movement. He couldn’t fucking do it anymore—it _hurt!_ It wasn’t right—wasn’t fucking right…

“_Soon_ I said. Be patient.”

When Dettlaff twitched inside him and a warm tongue flicked into his ear he about lost it.

“_P-please._ I need…” he broke then, almost sobbing and eyes rolling back as he reached for his over-sensitive throbbing cock.

His arm was ripped away just a quick, a bare ghost of a thought as his arms were pinned behind him. He did sob then, tears beading in the corner of his eyes he struggled to free himself. Every shift of his legs, every pull of his arms jarred the hard cock inside him, sending jolts of intense pleasure to his groin.

“_Dettlaff please!”_ he begged, gasping for breath. He looked away towards the fire, panting, humiliated as he tried to blink away the tears that slowly bled down his scarred cheek.

“As you wish, my witcher,” the vampire husked thickly as fangs scraped down along his neck.

Eskel trembled and rolled his hips back into him and nearly cried out once more as the vampire suddenly slammed up.

The languid pace from earlier had been discarded, replaced by something feral. Amber eyes rolled up, revealing their whites as pain and pleasure became one with no way to discern the two. Dettlaff was a beast, savagely pounding into him with no reservation, making him writhe moan and produce sounds that were more inhuman and wanton than he thought capable.

Vaguely, he felt the vampire nose into the crook of his neck, nibbling on his heated skin—testing, savoring? Then fangs, sharp and cruel, grazing him—tempting.

“Nn..” he mewled, unable to form words for his want.

“Do you…accept?” Dettlaff breathed, staying his pace ever so slightly so that Eskel could form words.

He whined then and fought to catch his breath—then blinked as he attempted to pull his mind away from his throbbing cock and form at least a semi-coherent thought.

“Mm—m-make me—y-yours—“he gasped through parted lips, cracked and pulled back in a snarl as he fought to focus past the trembling and burning need of his body.

Dettlaff shuddered and loosed the hold on his arms in favor of pulling him close; threading a clawed hand through his hair to angle his neck in _just_ the right way.

With broken moan, Eskel let him, grinding down as the cruel pace resumed. Dettlaff’s lips grazed his skin then almost lovingly, and it took everything he had to focus past the jarring rhythm on them—those lips. The way they parted and the warm tongue flicked out, tasting him—savoring him. He wanted to remember this—remember what it was like to be bitten, even if it was the last thing he remembered, fuck…

Fangs grazed his skin then, tentatively and his cock throbbed at thought of what was about to happen. The fact that this might be his last breath, might be his last moments made him pulse, the realization sending a spurt of precum out of his cock, and shivers down his spine. Guess that was a thrill that set him off, just as the tightening grip in his hair made him whine with anticipation…

His eyes rolled back and time seemed to slow as the fangs sunk in, slowly breaking skin, sinking down and releasing his blood. The pin prick of pain sent a jolt of pleasure to his cock that seemed to deepen and spread throughout his whole body as Dettlaff began to gently suck.

Eskel lost himself to the sensation—_all_ the sensations. He couldn’t keep track of his body or mind as searing heat continually thrust into the bundle of nerves. It sent wave after wave of pleasure to his core that drove him to floating, unable to process but the most intense of feelings or sound. He could feel his heart pulsing frantically as the vampires venom worked its way into his system, lubricating it and lighting him on fire. His whole body felt over-sensitized, simultaneously numb and vibrating with pleasure. He heard the growl that reverberated against his throat too as the vampire sucked his life blood out of him, and felt how razor sharp claws kneaded into his hips drawing blood.

He felt as his body, alive with fire and need, finally reached its breaking point. The coil of tension inside him snapped and released forcefully in a white hot explosion that ripped through his body so harshly it went rigid, and then his mind went black.

~_~_~_~

The sensation of being _full,_ and of being _filled_, utterly and to the brim is what stirred him back to consciousness.

Eskel lay on his stomach, body curled comfortably into the furs with a blanket of heat draped over him. The blanket being the vampire—Dettlaff, with his cock still inside of him, moving ever so slowly and still so unbelievably _hard. _He blinked his eyes open, focusing on the glow of the fire as he tried to block out the pain; his vision distorted slightly by hair that had fallen in his face.

He whined, curling his fists into the furs as the various aches and pains of his body made themselves known. The burning ache inside him, the stretch from that thick cock now raw and painful…

Why…Dettlaff…Fuck…He automatically arched back, mutations keying up and making him rut against the vampire who had so thoroughly fucked him earlier. Gods he wanted to…

But could he?

Dettlaff shifted then, sitting up to straddle his ass, angling into him and thrust deeply, brutally piercing that bundle of nerves and making his cock pulse beneath him. He hissed at the sudden change of position, and how his swollen, aching hole stretched further from the tension.

“Fuck…Don’t you ever grow soft?” he breathed, voice almost raw as he arched his ass up into the vampire with a moan.

“Mmm…do you want me to, my dear witcher Eskel?” Dettlaff purred, his thick cock pegged into his ass. Clawed hands gently roved over the scars on Eskel’s back, raising bumps on his skin making him shiver.

“N—no. Not really? Might wanna try riding me again though—give my ass a break eh?” he chuckled into the furs at his own daring, though he wasn’t about to get his hopes up.

“You _would_ like that, wouldn’t you?” Padded thumbs pressed into and started massaging his back lazily as Dettlaff slowly rocked into him. “I don’t think I shall…no. Not yet. Our little vindictive game is through though,” he warned, “I’ve had my _reparations._”

_That_ was a fucking relief. Gods…that had been, really, the most torturous bout of sex _ever. And probably the best he’s EVER had._

“I think you got a little too vengeful Detty, I only did it to you once.” Dettlaff couldn’t see Eskel’s expression, but he could definitely hear the pout in his voice.

“Mmm…are you whining, witcher? I thought you enjoyed it…” Dettlaff lilted down at him, though he could practically hear the smirk.

“I passed the fuck out asshole!”

That earned him a chuckle. “And you will again, given enough time.” Dettlaff promised.

Eskel groaned and buried his heated face into the plush furs at the thought. “You’ve already broken my ass, you wanna break my dick too?”

He could nearly feel the vampire leering at him. “I can fix your ass, your dick though, not so much.” He almost seemed sad that he couldn’t. Thank Gods.

“You can fix my ass?”….Oh.

The vampire bent down to tenderly feather kisses along Eskel’s back as he slid off him, leaving him gaping and empty. It felt _so wrong_ after being filled for so long—he was at a loss and was left wanting…_needing_ something…

At least until clawed hands gently parted his cheeks and _that_ _something_ licked into him. Warm and slow, soft little licks that graced the raw edges of his hole before delving deeply inside.

“Oh…oh!” he moaned breathily as he pressed back into Dettlaff’s wicked tongue. “Fuuuck you’re gona spoil me…” It felt so good as the raw edges tingled and cooled as they healed. Gods he was never going to want another lover again.

Shit.

…

…….

Fucking _shit._

Eskel groaned inwardly, cursing himself and suddenly feeling very miserable as Dettlaff worked to heal him.

Witchers, by trade, didn’t have lovers. _Ever._ They had flings, which is exactly what the vampire was—should have been.

Should still be.

Fuck he had to get outa there…

Dettlaff must have sensed something off as he crawled forward and settled himself beside Eskel. A clawed hand gently sifted through his hair and moved it from blocking his eyes. Eskel found his eyes fluttering closed as he lent into it.

“Problem, witcher?” the vampire asked, almost tentatively. Warmth pillowed against his cheek as the vampire lent over him, waiting.

Eskel kept his eyes closed, refusing to look up at his would be lover. “Yeah…gotta get going.”

The fingers in his hair flinched ever so slightly. “_Stay._”

Eskel’s brow furrowed at what wasn’t a command, but a _plea._ He wouldn’t look at Dettlaff—

_“Please.” _The hands wound down from his hair, and the pad of a thumb ghosted over his chapped lips.

Couldn’t…

“_Just a couple more days…”_

Gods damn it…

“_Please Eskel…”_ There was pain in the vampire’s voice now, longing—he obviously didn’t want to suffer through the rest of his rutting episode alone. Dettlaff wanted _him…Eskel…_

Fuck he couldn’t make him beg…after all that happened…

What…was a couple more days then…in the grand scheme of things?

Hesitantly he opened his amber eyes and locked onto the vulnerable blue above him. “Okay.”

He’d stay. Then he’d go get black out drunk once he got back to Dorian—fuck all else.

Dettlaff gifted him with a genuine, toothy grin then and dipped his head, gently claiming Eskel’s chapped lips and healing them anew.

~_~_~_~

The day or so that passed after that was a blur. They would come together, passionately, full of need, sometimes rough and other times gentle, until Eskel needed healing or passed out. After he passed out the third time, he was _out—gone _and utterly spent. He had no idea how many hours passed before he woke, but when he did, Dettlaff was gently cleaning him with a damp cloth. It was smooth and cool against his skin, soothing. He was…so very considerate…Gods...Their bodies had become nasty, sticky and crusty with sweat and dried cum. The fact that the vampire, so instinctual in his rut at this point, _thought_ about keeping him comfortable…

It was so sweet—endearing even…

Dettlaff had even bothered enough to get him food! Eskel salivated as he caught the aroma of freshly charred meet cooking over the fire, causing the hunger he’d been ignoring within him to flare to life. Carefully helping Eskel up, Dettlaff gently led his wobbly ass over to the fire and the spit of cooked deer.

It was kinda humiliating really, his wobble, and need for assistance, but could you blame him? While he’d been forcibly denied and fucked however many times, the vampire never flagged. Not even once! Even as Eskel ate, furious to replenish the stores of energy he’d burned through, Dettlaff busied himself around the cavern. The vampire practically vibrated with energy as he moved to fix the nest, shuffling around the skins and pillows so they remained fresh, despite his cock jutting and leaking everywhere. It was insane!

After he’d eaten his fill, he took a moment to stretch, limber up, then moved to put on his armor.

“What are you doing?” Dettlaff asked him, pausing and momentarily taking on that flighty look he had when he first met him.

“Gona check on Scorpion, my horse.” It had been a while—he’d left the stallion fully tacked when he’d entered the cave, however many days ago. He was probably pissed, and he didn’t look forward to calming the sassy beast down without any treats.

“Oh—I took care of him hours ago. He’s untacked and roaming around, enjoying the fields. He won’t run off I assure you.” Dettlaff had turned back to shuffling around the pillows, doing his best to keep his nest _perfect._

“Oh…” Warmth seeped through him then, and a tightness wound itself through his chest, surprising him and nearly bowling him over at its strength. “Thank you, Dettlaff.”

“Mhmmm…least I can do,” Dettlaff said as he stooped to pick up a large quilt.

Eskel’s eyes lit upon the quilt the vampire was holding then and his heart stuttered. “Uh…Detty? Can I have that quilt? It’s for that contract…that I initially came here for. It’s been in their family for six generations…”

Dettlaff looked at it, then at him, and back to the quilt. Eskel held his breath—instinctually, he wouldn’t be surprised if the vampire latched onto it as it was a component to his nest…But was it a _key_ component? That was the question…

“Please?” he asked, lightly stepping into the nest and tentatively putting his hands on it.

Dettlaff scowled, still looking torn as he deliberated with himself.

Eskel worried his lip as he thought, _considered,_ then _groaned_ inwardly. “I’ll let you do that thing again, with the mist, if you give it to me…”

Fuck fuck fuck…

As the vampires eyes lit up, he let go of the blanket and turned to mist.

Eskel felt his knees turn to jello and nearly give out.

Gods damn it.

~_~_~_~

After he was thoroughly ravaged by icy hot mist tendrils, fucking him and denying him every which way for however long, he passed out for a fourth—or was it fifth?—time.

When he slowly came to, warmth cradled his back and strong arms wrapped around him almost possessively. Dettlaff lay curled up against him, face buried into his head of tangled brown hair and their legs twined most naturally. The heat they shared was most relaxing—soothing even against the various aches, pains and multitude of burning scratches that plagued him.

Also, he noted with wry amusement, it was the first time he’d woken up without a dick in his ass, so he took that as a plus. Relief flood through him following that realization, along with something else that threatened acknowledgement which he buried resolutely.

Rather, he let the scents of the nest surround him—it smelt purely of them now, he and Dettlaff, his spice and the vampire’s musk, of sex and cum and sweat. The aroma was heady—rich. He allowed it to burn itself into his memory as he nosed into the skins, not wishing to forget and knowing he may need it for the many lonely nights on the path to come.

Closing his eyes, he focused intently on the steady rise and fall of the vampire’s chest behind him. His lip quirked up softly as he noted how Dettlaff held him, his clawed hand furling and unfurling lazily against his chest—over his heart, so entrusting, the both of them had been in each other. An unfamiliar ache settled deep in his chest then, but he moved on, focusing on another sensation before that feeling could get the best of him by garnering too much thought.

He felt the vampire’s breath pillow against his neck, warming it with its light caress; sending soft tendrils of heat down his spine in much the same way the mist had.

Gods…

It was almost enough to wake up his cock if he wasn’t already so completely and utterly _empty._

“Mmnn…”

The vampire shifted behind him then, easing a knee between Eskel’s legs, spreading them slightly seeking warmth. The face in his hair nosed around too, inhaling deeply and nuzzling closer.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Eskel teased, barely resisting the urge to hiss as Dettlaff’s sharp claws flexed into his skin, skimming along several fresh scratches from the night prior.

Dettlaff curled into him and grumbled slightly into his hair, “N’morning, sleep now.”

“Dettlaff…” Gods he sounded almost _adorable_ but he knew it was just the vampire’s exhaustion kicking in—having been in rut for who knows how long before he showed up. All that energy he saw Dettlaff burning, all that fluttering around, adjusting the nest, hunting, untacking his horse and of course all that glorious sex they had…He wouldn’t be surprised if Dettlaff slept for a week straight after this!

“Dettlaff…I gotta go.”

The vampire keened and nosed further into his hair, apparently opting to ignore him.

Letting out a huff, he opted for a more direct approach himself. With almost no wiggle room, he somehow—and with considerable effort and more than a few grunts of pain—twisted himself around in Dettlaff’s arms to face the vampire.

Tired blue eyes gazed at him glittering with mirth and with a hint of what looked like sadness.

“I gotta go,” he repeated, though his eyes now lingered on the slightly parted lips in front of him—they were so tempting, and bitable, and had clearly been thoroughly abused already.

Fuck he had to go before he decided to give in and wreck them a bit more…

“Stay…” the vampire rumbled softly, nosing in under his neck.

“Dettlaff…” he growled a warning, hardly having to put much effort into the sound, his voice was so worn and hoarse already.

The vampire sighed and wilted into him—defeated as his accented voice tiredly rolled out. “Just a few more minutes then. Then I’ll let you go.”

Ha. Let.

“Damn you sure are clingy now,” he chuckled, though the ache he felt began to ease just slightly as he agreed to stay—for just a few minutes longer.

“Mmhm…Consequence of a rut well spent. I have no shame,” Dettlaff admitted, grumbling against him.

Something about the comment filled him with warmth and he grinned. Might as well take praise where he could get it—especially when it came to _that_—and from a vampire even!

“Mmmm,” Eskel hummed and nosed into that messy nest of raven locks he’d become so fond of and massaged his fingers into it. Might as well enjoy the moment while it lasted…

“You’d make a good lover,” Dettlaff softly murmured against his bare chest, his breath puffing out and caressing the skin.

Eskel’s massaging stalled, then stopped at the vampire’s words, something in them triggering to the forefront a thought he had a couple days prior…how he’d referred to the vampire as his lover…would be lover…

It was a good compliment, a fantastic one even—but Gods it hit too close to his heart. The ache he’d been feeling intensified painfully and he tensed, swallowing hard in an attempt to force it down.

“Yeah…you too…” he husked out, unable to hide the feeling behind the words. Eskel tore his gaze from the vampire and sat up, needing space. Witcher’s didn’t have lovers. Couldn’t really…could they?...

God’s no…they couldn’t. People hated him, despised him. He was always on the path, had no means to—didn’t have time, didn’t want to endanger—

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t realize how how Dettlaff had followed him up, nor how a clawed hand threaded its way through his hair and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was tentative and sweet, lacking all the passion that had been exchanged the last few days, yet full of want and easing the painful ache inside him. That feeling he’d been ignoring, burying deep. The one of longing—and the one yearning to be longed for. The want to have a place, and to have a person in that place with him. It _hurt._

Eskel licked into Dettlaff automatically as he fought to escape the hurt, and the vampire opened up, melting against him. Their lips smoothed over each other and tongues glided pleasantly in a languid kiss that both seemed too short and too long, and even lingered as he sought to break it.

“I need to go,” Eskel breathed, his voice barely audible and no longer trusting himself to speak. He had to bury that feeling, that ache that tightened so bad he couldn’t breathe. He thought he’d long abandoned it, having embraced the life—the path, of a witcher. But being here revived it—being with the vampire, Dettlaff, Being so well fucked and endearingly cared for…

“Fuck…” Eskel pushed away entirely and shakily forced himself to stand. He focused on the coals of the fire, now dim in the darkness of the cave. His legs stuttered and wobbled as he climbed out of the nest. Ignoring the eyes burning into his back, he walked over to the wood pile, kicked a few pieces into the pit and lit them with a quick igni.

Now that he had a little bit of light, he could find his armor. Most of which he remembered discarding rather haphazardly, all of which were now gathered neatly into a pile, next to his swords, gloves, boots and utility belt. Several of which he noted had been cleaned, others, mended slightly…how the hell long had he been out?!

Gods…Dettlaff was _not_ making this easy…He was going to get _so_ _wasted_ when he got back to Dorian…

It was then that he noticed, as he was pulling on his leather leggings and tying the strings to his cod piece, that the vampire had unbandaged his hand and healed it too. He looked at it, cat eyes expanding to collect the light of the cave. It was almost entirely healed, but with a few very faint pink lines which would easily fade with a few weeks’ time.

Eskel looked back over his shoulder then, his lip tugging up in a light smile. Dettlaff stood in the nest, staring at him looking rather dejected and grumpy.

“You’re a brat,” he grumped back at the vampire, fondness in his voice clearly evident. He let it slip this time. Couldn’t help it, didn’t care.

Dettlaff smirked at him then, before stooping to pick up a piece of clothing from behind the nest Eskel hadn’t noticed. “Yes…well. I figured if I was healing you, might as well…You weren’t awake to protest…”

Ha. “Now that’s a joke,” he groused as he finished tying his leggings and pulled on his undershirt.

“Why is that a joke?”

Eskel turned around and pulled down the collar of his shirt and pointed. “This. What the hell bat!?”

The last time he woke up, he noticed the tightness in his neck and an unpleasant ache. He was too out of it at the time to care, but now that he was awake he couldn’t help but notice, especially when he ran his fingers over it. The edges were sharp as they healed, and the puncture bites stung. He was sure it looked ghastly…

“Ah…that…” Dettlaff pulled on the pair of black trousers he was holding and looked at him kind of sheepishly.

“Yes. _That_. The huge fucking bite mark on my neck. Couldn’t have bothered to heal that?!....Noooo…”

The vampire turned away and picked a shirt out from behind the nest, mumbling something under his breath that Eskel couldn’t quite catch from where he stood.

“What was that, Detty?” Eskel inched forward as he pulled on his vest and slowly laced it up.

Dettlaff eyed him warily, clearly thinking over his words as he pulled on blood red tunic.

“You…told me to make you mine. So I did…In a way. Consider it a parting gift.” Dettlaff wouldn’t quite meet his eyes as he spoke, and Eskel didn’t blame him. He looked away too as the tightness in his chest increased.

“If a higher vampire should ever bother you, show him that. He will understand.”

What the…Gods...

“Did you…claim me?” the question blurted out of him then, without thinking or chance to school himself—out it went! The tips of his ears burned, and he wondered if Dettlaff could sense his embarrassment—feel the heat radiating off his skin.

The vampires eyes widened and he took a step back. “I…Is that not what you wanted?!” He asked, voice lilting with confusion and a hint of fear. The flighty look was back, and Eskel fought the urge to run over and comfort him.

“Dettlaff, _I was fucking wrecked._ Those were the first words that I could come up with!” Eskel exclaimed, somewhat exasperated, but also slightly amused—happy even. There was something deep down inside that was awfully pleased about being laid claim to, but he smothered it. He’d rather not let the feeling fester.

Dettlaff stood frozen, body taut with adrenaline. Eskel could see a change come over the vampire then, how his eyes darkened and grew distant. “Well…it’s just a scar. It didn’t have to mean anything—it wasn’t going to mean anything,” the vampire corrected himself, looking away and fumbling with the bed clothes as a distraction.

“Hmmm…” Eskel narrowed his eyes, thinking heavily on that correction but ultimately decided it would be better to make no comment. Instead, he took solitude in the familiarity of layering on his gear.

Finishing with the vest, he pulled on his studded jerkin, quickly moving over each fastening with practiced ease. Then he pulled on his belt—cleaned and clear of all busted vials, much to his fond appreciation and dismay. Finally, he pulled on his boots, gloves and lastly his swords. He was set, all but for the blanket.

Dettlaff had finished dressing as well, or as much as he was willing at the moment. He wore his pants and the red tunic and was…just standing. Staring off into space with not a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

“You going to be okay, Dettlaff?” he asked softly as he picked up that heritage quilt that had drawn him there to begin with.

It took the vampire a moment to realize he was being spoken to, and blinked.

“Yes…I shall. I thank you for the pleasant distraction, witcher Eskel.” Dettlaff had returned to being somewhat formal again, much to Eskel’s chagrin—especially at being referred to as a _pleasant distraction_.

Harrumphing, he turned to go, feeling that awkward tension return along with the anxiety in his chest, settling alongside that deep seated ache he was going to wash away in Dorian.

He paused by the fire then, to put together a make shift torch. As he did, he looked over his shoulder at the vampire, Dettlaff, his fling and would-be-lover who had laid claim to his body both physically and now, mentally.

“You know…you could…maybe…come be distracted _with me._ Could be fun out on the path with a vampire…?” he asked quietly—hopefully. The humiliation he’d felt earlier returned enforce as he finished fashioning the torch and waited for a response.

The question was stupid, he knew, and revealed just how naïve he was, despite his age. Though he argued with himself that it wasn’t naivety. It was hope…that maybe, just _maybe_ something good would come his way for once, despite everything else. Despite him being a witcher, despised, hated, cheated always, sterile and horrid looking—despite everything good in life being destined to avoid him.

Everything good. _Everything_. Except for now. Maybe. Dettlaff’s correcting himself gave him hope. Maybe he’d come, maybe they could enjoy each other for just a little bit longer? Maybe it was a stupid, hopeless question, but when it came with just the tiniest sliver of hope, maybe it was worth the humiliation of asking?

After all, there was always the tavern waiting for him. Maybe he’d just get shit faced too…

He waited, stomach clenching.

The cave was silent for several minutes, the hollowness broken only by the occasional crack or pop of the fire.

His chest constricted and he couldn’t breathe.

Another minute passed by. Then another.

Then he shrugged and stood, knowing exactly what it meant as he slowly put one foot in front of the other and left the cave.

He was going to get fuckered up.

~_~_~_~

The sound of the tavern was background noise to him. All the laughter was muffled, as was the jesting, singing, guffawing and other sounds of boisterous socialization typically found in a tavern on a late night. Which, he admitted, was better than the silence, like earlier when he’d walked in the door. The tavern had hushed as they waited for the witcher to make his agenda known, his twin swords gleaming in the firelight and scars startling even the most seasoned guards, ending their long day with a drink.

He’d met all their gazes, one by one as they sat on the benches or stood by the fire. Daring, looking for that one fool dumb enough to start a fight.

Thankfully, none were dumb or inebriated enough that evening to step forward, at least not yet.

Later, Eskel sat in a corner, with his back to the door, hunched over his sixth or seventh mug of ale—he lost count.

It was only just the beginning.

He’d need about twelve or so, on top of a bottle of Erveluce or some other strong spirit, or two. _Then maybe_ he could drown himself, block out the ache and the thoughts.

When he’d returned to Dorian, his eyes latched onto families, naturally, and couples. They were either working hard, managing a good life together, or smiling fondly, talking, conversing and offering the occasional touch of affection. They were together, happy—in love. What they had was _good_ and _right._

It was enough to make him sick. Sick of himself, sick of his life, sick of the _want_ that he’d buried and returned to plague him.

Sick of the fools in the corner across from him, shamelessly making out where everyone could see.

“Get a room!” someone yelled from across the tavern, eliciting laughter and various cat calls from the crowd until the two really did _get a room._

Fuck his life.

Even the gal who’d propositioned him for the contract, she’d practically begged him to bed her. Fuck her, but even if he could have managed, he wouldn’t. The look of hurt in her eyes, the confusion. It took everything he had just assure her that _it wasn’t her. _That it was _him. _And fuck it all, when he walked away, she actually accused him of preferring men over ladies and of being a eunuch.

Not that he didn’t mind men—he had no qualms whatsoever, but he liked both women and men—yet currently, only one man was on his mind. Had been on his mind, ever since he stepped foot outside that cave and tacked up Scorpion. One _vampire._

Eskel stared down at the bottom of his empty mug as he thought about Dettlaff and the time they’d spent together. All the vulnerabilities they’d shared, the trust they’d built…How he’d learned about the vampire, related to, comforted him, cared for him even…

Damn it…He suppressed a groan and raised his hand to the tavern wench. She came over to give him a refill rather quickly, seemingly on point that night, despite the crowd.

“Thank you,” he practically growled, his voice still rough from overuse. The gal flinched, despite his thanks and scurried away. Rolling his eyes, the next time she came near, he grabbed her hand and slapped a crown into it, making her yelp. That garnered some looks from the patrons, though when the gal blushed readily at her tip, she offered him a cute curtsey and was quickly on her way.

The next time she came by to fill him up, he requested the Erveluce, then tipped her once again. The wine was sweet on his lips, robust and soothing on his throat, and gone all too quickly. Much like the time in the cave. It passed too fast…

Gods he was a fool to think that the vampire would come with, partake in the path with him, even if for a little bit—just as a _distraction_—

Warmed from the inside and lost in his thoughts as he downed the rest of his tenth—or eleventh?—mug of ale, he practically jumped out of his skin when a warm hand settled on his shoulder.

Eyes wide, he looked up and his heart leapt once again to a horrible, god awful wrong conclusions at who the hand might belong to.

“R-Regis,” Eskel swallowed and looked up at the vampire through glazed eyes.

“Eskel…what did you do?!” The aged vampire stared at him, black eyes wide and concerned as Eskel floundered for words and his heart fought to keep up with the letdown.

“Dettlaff. A lot of times.” He said stupidly, skin flushing beet red as his mind whirled back in memory.

“That much is apparent, _witcher._ I can scent him _all over you._ And all over that cave for that matter! Melitele…it’s a wonder you’re still alive!”

“Hnnn…he wouldn’t have hurt me. Not permanently,” he lilted a bit sadly, making Regis’s brows shoot up.

The vampire sank down next to him then and begged the question: “What happened?”

Eskel straightened then, as much as he was able, though he couldn’t suppress his smirk. “Lots of things—many of which I’m sure you can guess.” He ignored the tinge of pink that dusted the vampire’s cheeks and motioned to the tavern wench as she walked by again.

“Two more refills, if you would,” he slurred slightly and went back to leaning heavily on the table. He ignored the look Regis gave him and thinned his lips, wondering why the vampire was here. Regis looked tired, worn—which was the usual, but his black and silver streaked hair had an unusual unkempt look to it—frazzled even.

“Why you here, Regish?” His turn for pointed questioning!

Regis straightened then and cleared his throat, apparently having expected his question. “I had a raven follow you—I have one on every friend of Geralt’s, really. It followed you to the cave. It saw Dettlaff come out and untack your horse, so it alerted me. I went there, but he’s gone. My raven informed me you came here.”

Eskel lent hard on the table and rubbed his eyes to hide the stinging burn that threatened to overwhelm them. “He’s gone…?”

“…Yes…” He missed Regis’s eyes narrowing at him. “How much have you had to drink, witcher?”

He removed his hand and sat back, revealing puffy, tired eyes. “Not enough, vampire, not enough.” Gods he wouldn’t be happy until he blacked out…

“I dare say…” Regis frowned at him as he took in Eskel’s appearance and reactions. He could practically hear the vampire coming to conclusions…Fuck. “Did you at least get yourself a room yet, Eskel?”

Eskel fumbled and lifted a key he’d been clenching so hard in his hand it left an imprint.

“Here’s an idea. How about you go up to your room, I’ll bring the drinks, and you’ll tell me what happened.”

“Mmm…sure, Regish.” That sounded like a fantastic plan. Maybe he’d pass out before his mouth would ramble off too far, ha.

Eskel stood slowly and swayed as he braced himself against the table.

“On second thought, let’s get you up to the room and then I’ll get the drinks.”

“Shur.”

~_~_~_~

The room he managed to get was cramped and musty, smelling of mold. The bed was lumpy too, but at least it had a hearth. As he sat down heavily on the bed and Regis went back to get their drinks, he lit it with a quick Igni, then focused on his gear.

By the time Regis returned, he’d somehow managed to get all but his leathers and undershirt off, and sat heavily on the bed staring tiredly at the floor. Regis situated himself on a stool across from him, and set their drinks on the table nearby.

“So, Eskel. Enlighten me. However did you find my Brother, _and survive_?”

The way Regis looked at him, begged the answer of the question, so he told him—everything.

From the pickup of the contract, to discovering the hand and how he found the cave, to when he saw the state of the vampire, and gathered that the nesting was due to his state of rut. How Dettlaff had surprised him as his cat eye potion wore off and they tussled—to what led him to realizing who the vampire was, and even going so far as to comfort him in his misery.

Eskel finished off his last mug of beer then and hiccupped softly, remembering how wrought the vampire had been, and anguished, shuddering against him as he keened and sobbed miserably. Gods…how that had changed.

He told Regis then, how he’d brought Dettlaff out of his state of anguish and how Dettlaff had coerced him into staying with brutal honesty and a bit of force—which was all his fault, honestly. He ended with ‘and then we fucked real good for three or four days,’ having scented Regis’s arousal and discomfort—no need to provide details. If the pink tinge of the vampire’s cheeks was anything to go by, he got it.

Despite that, he somehow felt the need to reveal everything else—Regis tried to stop him with a soft hand on his knee, insisting it wasn’t necessary, but Eskel ploughed on. Maybe it was because of his drunken stupor, or because of his self-loathing, maybe it was because he just wanted someone to talk to, aside from Geralt—maybe it was because Regis was the only person who might understand. Eskel revealed to the vampire his longing for a normal life, for a partner, the need to relieve the ache he felt that Dettlaff had triggered in him so keenly.

He even showed Regis the mark, yanking the shirt aside so angrily he nearly ripped it. “SEE?! Look what he did…and he implied…He corrected himself after…but he implied it might mean something, _could have…” _There was pain in his voice then and he snarled, letting the stretched out fabric fall loose as he hugged himself.

“Gods I am so fucking stupid.” He seethed, ignoring the wild eyed vampire in front of him.

“No…witcher Eskel, you’re not,” a warm voice purred from behind him.

Eskel’s heart lodged in his throat at the voice and he froze, staring wide eyed at Regis who stared wide eyed back—dark eyes flickering between he and the owner of the voice behind him.

Weight settled on the bed and he closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, willed this to be a dream he couldn’t fucking believe it. He was drunk—hallucinating—dreaming—

A soft, clawed hand smoothed under the stretched out fabric of his shirt to rest atop the still healing wound that he’d thought meant so little. Eskel let out a shuddering breath at the touch, the feel of those claws against his skin…

“You’re not stupid, nor just a distraction.”

Oh fuck.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me right now,” he hissed between his teeth as he opened his eyes to glare at Regis.

“You couldn’t have you know—told me? You just had to let me keep blabbering on like a love struck child Regis?! REALLY?” Eskel’s face flushed, deep and crimson now that everything was out in the open. Every. Fucking. Thing.

Regis swallowed and removed the hand from his knee that he’d been so intent on ignoring. “I tried?” Regis quipped with a wry smile.

“I fucking hate you both right now.”

A warm chuckle reverberated through him as Dettlaff settled behind him on the bed and nosed into the other side of his neck. “Mmm…now I know _that_ is a lie.”

Gods Dettlaff was never going to let him live this down. Ever.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Abandoned warren is actually the warren Dettlaff grew up in, which he was drawn to in his depression/anxiety.
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed!! I really had fun writing this, and I'm trying really hard to get better at writing.


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